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9 





A f 


ONLY A PIN ! 


Silt KnstcuttiSie moral Stor®. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF J. T. DE SAINT-GERMAINE, 


p<r . 

A Graduate of St, Joseph* Emmittsburg^ 






“Seek, and you shall find.’* '--lliJJr— 


New York: ^ 

THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

No. 9 WARREN STREET. 



\ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C. 


JOHN ROSS & CO., PRINTfeRS, 27 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 


OTo ill. C> B. 

DEAR SIR : In one of those delightful reunions 
which I had the pleasure of enjoying at your house, 
you wittily related to the company assembled a ve^y interest- 
ing anecdote. 

I thought that many others would feel equal enjoyment in 
the narrative, if it were placed tipon record, arid I sincerely 
hope you will be able to trace no small portion of your lively 
spirit, transfused, in the little book which I have nozv the 
honor of dedicating to you. 

I remain, my dear Sir, 

Yours, very faithfully. 


February 17, 1856. 


y. T 


FOR A PIN. 


inanimate objects^ a pin is, perhaps^ the one most 
mtimately acquainted with the events of hujna7i life, 
and if a pin could speak, it would doubtless recount curious 
things. As forme, such singular adventures have fallen to 
my lot, that I have requested an intimate friend to timismit 
them to posterity. 


SI }3i'n 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface, 5 

My Birth, g 

My Introduction to the World, j . . . n 

Grandeur and Obscurity, 12 

The Trial, * . , . iS 

Whence he Came, • • . 22 

His Progress, 26 

The Great World, . . . ' . . . .29 

The Picture-Gallery, 35 

The Apparition, 45 

The Wager, 48 

Correggio’s Antiope, 54 

The Correggio, . 62 

The Departure, 71 

The Voyage 

Diplomacy, 77 

The Commission, 83 

A Mother, 104 

Already, 112 

Interpretation, . . . . . . .121 


Contents. 


FAGB 

A Friend, 124 

A Turn in the Road, 132 

Exile, 142 

Weakness, 149 

Mantes the Elegant, 161 

The Portrait, 168 

The Conspiracy, 173 

Justice, 178 

At Last, 192 

Restitution, 199 

Postscript, . . ’ 203 


PREFACE 


readers of this little book have sought within 
its pages the history of an illustrious personage, 
an interest which it does not possess, for there is 
ygjy analogy between the brilliant career of 
a minister of Louis Philippe and the modest, compara- 
tively obscure life of my hero. 

The only point of resemblance, perhaps, is in the mere 
picking up of a pin. This apparently insignificant act, 
which appears to have been borrowed from a well-known 
anecdote, serves as a starting-point in life to a character 
remarkable for habits of order and observation — attention 
to little as- well as great things. The rest of this simple 
narrative is only an innocent fiction, with which I have in 
termingled a few old remembrances and familiar thoughts. 
Moreover, the tradition of “ The Pin " exists beyond the 
Rhine, as is attested by a curious’ article in the “ Novel- 
len-Zeitung,” a passage of which I have translated. This 
passage is confirmed by the following communication re 
ceived from Leipsic : “You know this is a true history; it 


Preface, 


happened either at Leipsic or Magdeburg. The young 
man who picked up the pin is named M. ; he after- 

wards became a rich, influential manufacturer near Mag- 
deburg.” 

And to-day, “ The Legend of the Pin,” translated at 
Leipsic with the author’s permission, recalls to its Ger- 
man readers the humble beginning of the rich merchant, 

M. . 


( 


c 




ONLY A PIN 


I. 

MY BIRTH. 

OD said, “ Let there be light, 
and there was light ! ” Poor 
human beings ! so exalted 
with the spark of divine 
breath which gives you 
life, and fills your hearts 
with pride, how many of 
you, and how many of your 
combined efforts, are ne- 
cessary to make a single 
pin ! 

Let us see : first, a number of workmen in 
a vast apartment, with the help of compli- 
cated machinery driven by steam, produce the 
brass wire which is to be fashioned into pins ; 
second, the dresser unwinds and cuts it in 
pieces ; third, the pointer sharpens the ends 
pf the wire upon a grindstone ; fourth, the 



lO 


Only a Pin, 


pinker gives it the desired length ; fifth, the 
twister disposes it in spirals to form the heads ; 
sixth, the cutter of heads cuts and fastens the 
heads ; seventh, the cook rebakes the heads, 
in order to produce the desired flexibility; 
eighth, the fashioner of heads gives them an 
elegant turn ; ninth, the rubber a first cleans- 
ing ; tenth, the bleacher a tinning ; eleventh, 
the extinguisher a cold-water bath ; twelfth, 
the polisher turns them rapidly in a cask of 
bran; thirteenth, the fanner separates the 
pins from the bran ; fourteenth, the picker 
makes rows of holes upon the paper ; fif- 
teenth, the arranger fills up the holes with 
pins. Numbers of persons are employed in 
each one of these operations, and I passed 
through more than a hundred hands before 
being an article of sale. 


Note. — The “ making of a pin,” as described above, 
is done away with altogether. Pins are now made en- 
tirely by machinery, and completed by one process. They 
are even stuck in the papers by machinery. These ma- 
chines are American inventions. 


II. 


MY INTRODUCTION TO THE WORLD. 

TH some millions of com- 
panions, I was put into a 
rapid vehicle, and we were 
sold, like modest slaves, 
for the benefit of the civil- 
ized world. The case 
which served as our pri- 
son was opened in an ele- 
gant store, and we were 
skilfully disposed in large 
crystal cups. Perfumes, gloves, ribbons for 
the fair sex, were around us. After a long 
conversation with the clerk in charge of us, a 
lady’s-maid took me from the crystal cup, and, 
attaching me to her neck-handkerchief, trans- 
ported me to a brilliant mansion in the neigh- 
borhood of the Chauss^e d’Antin. 



III. 


GRANDEUR AND OBSCURITY. 

! the luxury and the os- 
tentation of this magnifi- 
cent abode ! In examining 
the elegant paintings, the 
rich hangings decorating 
the mansion, its splendid 
apartments, its princely 
furniture, I thought of the 
hundred poverty - stricken 
artisans whose reunited ef- 
forts had brought about my triumphal entry 
into these gilded chambers. 

Quick, Julia ! ” cried a shrill voice from 
the depths of a boudoir hung with silk. And 
that ribbon, have you finished it ? ” 

Here it is, madame ; if you only knew how 
much trouble I have had in rearranging — ” 

“ Hush, miss, and give me a pin.” 

Hastily detaching me from her neck-hand- 
kerchief, Julia passed me over to her mistress, 
who was paying the mirror most assiduous 
attention. 



Only a Pin, 


T3 

I was now employed in carefully pinning 
together a graceful knot of ribbons upon the 
neck of my pretty mistress. She departed 
immediately the carriage was waiting. What 
a delightful lot seemed to have become my 
own ! What curious things I was going to see 
and hear ! The footman opens the gate, and 
off we go. 

But half-way across the yard, my mistress 
stoops to give an order, and, alas for me ! 
I fall between two bricks of that immense 
pavement. There was a great deal of moving 
to and fro, coming and going, and, as well as 
I could guess, the place was a vast bureau 
where numberless clerks were employed in 
receiving and paying out money, for all who 
entered bore away large bags of crowns, or 
portfolios apparently well filled. 

My head remained upon the edge of the 
pavement, and from this position I could ob- 
serve a young man of modest demeanor and 
grave, gentle air, who had just entered the 
yard. He appeared to reflect, afterwards 
went back a few steps, then, as if making a 
great effort to recover his courage, he ad- 
vanced resolutely but sadly towards a large 
glass door bearing the inscription, “ Bureau 
and Treasury.” His countenance interested 
me. I longed to be near him, and become 
better acquainted, for I possessed the strange 


14 


Only a Pin, 


gift of divining, by contact, the mind and 
character of those who bore me. If he 
would only pick me up ! ” said I. I would 
love to be owned by him ; but the ungrateful 
fellow ! his thoughts were elsewhere, and he 
passed me by. 

I soon saw him emerge from the glass door, 
accompanied by a person whose gestures im- 
plied the refusal of what had been so earnest- 
ly desired. However, upon another en- 
treaty, the chief clerk shows him the windows 
of the principal apartment whence I had 
just descended in such brilliant company, 
and consents even to let an ofHce-boy con- 
duct hirri to the master of the house, with 
whom he was almost immediately engaged in 
a very brief conversation. 

Try me,” the young man appeared to say, 
in a modest, persuasive manner. 

“ I really cannot,” was the master’s re- 
sponse, as I understood from gestures not 
less expressive than those of his petitioner, 
and he bowed slowly, as a person otherwise 
engaged who dismisses his visitor. 

I saw the young man wipe his eyes, and, 
with a sad smile, politely turn to go away. 

Very slowly he descende.d the three marble 
steps of the piazza — very slowly and with 
downcast eyes he walked across the vast yard. 
Just at the moment he passed, a sunbeam 


Only a Pin. 


15 


illumined my little head. He saw me, and 
never had I felt so happy ; for he stooped 
down, picked me up, and, wiping me off, 
carefully stuck me in the sleeve of his coat, 
which was a little too narrow, and beginning 
to look shabby. 

Just at that instant we heard some one 
open the large window, and a loud voice 
said : 

^‘Baptiste! tell that' young man to come 
back immediately. I wish to speak to him.” 

A liveried porter came, and politely re- 
quested our return to the first story whence 
we had just descended, I so joyful, he so sad. 

The master was a person of open counte- 
nance and fine, intelligent appearance ; his 
eyebrows and beard were black, his hair al- 
ready gray, his eyes bright and penetrating. 
He gave a silent glance at the new-comer, 
and then in a* brief, precise tone said : 

“ Monsieur, you stopped in this yard ; you 
stooped down, having apparently found a pre- 
cious object ; which, if I mistake not, you pick- 
ed up. Could you tell me what it was that 
attracted your attention ? ” 

The poor young man was speechless. Per- 
haps he had forgotten me, or did not like to 
acknowledge that so insignificant a thing had 
arrested his steps ; but, casting his eyes upon 
the sleeve, he saw me bravely lifting my head. 


i6 


Only a Pin. 


Taking me out, and piteously showing me to 
the rich banker, he said : 

“ I beg you, monsieur, to excuse a very 
simple habit. My poor father, now dead, 
taught me to pick up even a pin — a habit 
which, out of respect to his memory, as well 
as in obedience to those maxims of order and 
system he strove to instil, I have never for- 
gotten or omitted.” 

And he replaced me in his sleeve. 

‘‘ My child,” said the banker, there is no 
reason to blush, or even to suppose that the 
mere picking up of a pin is of no consequence. 
It is of so much consequence, that I, who 
really did not need your services, as I re- 
gretted to tell you a few minutes ago, have 
■for the present made up my mind to try you.” 

Writing some words, he summoned a boy 
employed in the office, and said : 

“ Conduct this gentleman to the chief 
clerk.” 

Then, shaking hands with the young man, 
he dismissed him. 

The banker, Baron Wolff, was a person 
whose intelligence had placed him in the 
first rank of financiers. He had innumera- 
ble business connections in both hemispheres ; 
his probity was irreproachable ; his knowledge 
of men, and discernment in judging of dispo- 
sitions, considerable. A large part of his im- 


Only a Pin. 


17 


mense fortune was spent in helping the needy, 
or encouraging the fine arts and useful enter- 
prises. How beautiful is fortune, how beauti- 
ful the^ower of gold, when it falls into hands 
so liberal and pure ! Thus the baron, in follow- 
ing with his eyes his young protdge to the 
door, prayed that the horoscope, which rested 
as yet only on the head of a pin, would be 
justified by the first trial. 


IV. 




THE TRIAL. 

E a^ain open the large glass 
door of the office. We 
are conducted to the chief 
clerk, who, reading the ba- 
ron’s orders, regarded the 
new-comer with surprise, 
as if the imposed task 
were evidently beyond 
the young man’s abilities. 
However, he himself con- 
ducted him into the principal apartment, an 
immense room, where grated compartments 
separated the business and correspondence 
of one country from another, as a map of the 
world divides it into various states. Passing 
by England, Germany, Russia the East In- 
dies, they stopped at a special desk marked 
Canada. The chief of the bureau, present- 
ing the candidate a chair, said to a clerk : 

“ Bring monsieur the letters from Canada.” 

Then to the candidate he said : 

‘‘You have two hours, monsieur, to run 



Ojily a Pin, 19 

over these, extract all the orders, and carry 
them immediately to M. Wolff.” 

I divined by contact the thoughts of my 
v.^orthy young man, and was pleased with 
him. Thanking his conductor, he took his 
place with simplicity and confidence. His 
first glance was at the poor little pin that had 
been his passport. It reminded him of a fa- 
ther and a father’s wise counsels, a good mo- 
ther, still so anxious for his future ; and then 
his heart was lifted up towards the kind Pro- 
vidence who now, perhaps, afforded him the 
opportunity of being useful to those who 
greatly needed his assistance. Encouraged 
and comforted by these reflections, he brave- 
ly opened the Canadian budget. 

Canada, as I have learned from a native 
Canadian pin, is a country full of life and 
energy, where the richest products of nature 
abound ; where civilization makes rapid 
strides ; and where all eyes are turned toward 
France, the beloved, respected ancestress. 
Here, upon the ancient territory of the Iro- 
quois, have cities and towns sprung up ere 
the geographers of our country had time to 
note their existence. Seventeen years and a 
half was mentioned to me as the venerable age 
of a city containing forty thousand inhabitants. 
So much activity, so much progress, sjLipposes 
great wants, incessantly renewed appeals for 


20 


Only a Pm, 


the creations of a more advanced civilization, 
an exchange of natural products for those 
of the Old World’s refined industry, an im- 
mense commerce, a multiplied, feverish cor- 
respondence. Such eagerness to live ! such 
eagerness to enjoy ! Orders must be filled 
with the rapidity of the wind swelling the 
sails, or the steam impelling the boat to its 
destination. 

The new clerk realized the nature and im- 
portance of his task on opening the immense 
budget of daily correspondence. He imme- 
diately began to arrange with order and sys- 
tem the various letters and packages. On 
one side were placed remittances and values ; 
on another, matters of dispute ; and on an- 
other, orders to be filled ; for, besides bank- 
ing, the house of Wolff was engaged in an 
extensive commission business, which gave 
employment to numberless persons. Having 
analyzed the contentions, made a memoran- 
dum of prices, and taken down all the orders, 
he immediately carried them to M. Wolff. 

^‘Already?” said the banker, smiling. 

And he cast a rapid glance over the novice’s 
writing and lines of figures. 

“ You speak English, do you not ? ” 

An affirmative answer, and the conversa- 
tion continued in English. 

Although Canada formerly belonged to 


Only a Pm. 


21 


France, and the people of Lower Canada, 
retaining all their French manners and cus- 
toms, still speak French, English is the na- 
tional language, all public correspondence 
being carried on in that tongue, and a know- 
ledge of it indispensable to the duties of 
our clerk. 

‘‘Have you ever been in England?’’ said 
M. Wolff, astonished at his young clerk’s 
purity of accent. 

“ No, sir ; but my mother, who is a very good 
English scholar, and speaks it fluently, gave 
me some elementary instruction, and I have 
taken advantage of every opportunity of hear- 
ing and speaking it.” 

“ Shake hands ! ” said the banker warmly; 
“ you are one of us. Now tell me, my dear 
child, your name, and where you are from. 
But for that little pin, and notwithstanding 
ray boasted skill in physiognomy, I would 
have failed to secure the services of a person 
so useful and reliable ! ” 


V. 


WHENCE HE CAME. 



HE young man had, as I have 


- already mentioned, a gen- 
i teel, prepossessing aspect. 
> He appeared to be little 
I more than twenty years of 
F age. His large, mild eyes, 
I shaded by long lashes and 
^ beautiful eyebrows, were 
bright and expressive ; his 
broad, white forehead pure 


as that of a young girl, for no evil thought 
had ever invaded the sanctuary of his heart ; 
his black hair Was rich and abundant, and his 
oval countenance indicative of simplicity, 
serenity, and a certain degree of confidence. 
A faint moustache partially concealed lips 
somewhat thick, and a slight beard was on 
this chin of twenty years. His figure was 
slender and well shaped; his dress, we must 
say, a little careless ; his countenance natural 
and unembarrassed. Encouraged by the 
baron’s affability, he continued the conversa- 
tion in English, seeing the great pleasure it 


23 


Only a Pin. 

afforded his new patron to converse in that 
tongue, which is considered, in Europe, the 
universal language of business, as French is 
of literature and eloquence. 

“ My name is George, and I am twenty- 
two years old. I belong to a family of artists. 
My father succumbing to a life of excessive 
toil, my mother, who lives in the province, 
was left a widow with several children. With 
no other resource than her own brave heart, 
she provided for our education. She dis- 
suaded me, and with reason, from entering 
upon the difficult career of the fine arts, and 
I long for the moment when I, in turn, can 
be useful to my family. Having finished my 
course of studies, I applied myself to foreign 
languages, and afterwards commerce, under 
one of our relations in Germany. On return- 
ing to France, I vainly sought employment, 
for, being without recommendation, every 
gate was shut against me, and had it not been 
for this little pin, which I shall always keep 
as a precious talisman, I — ” 

The banker had listened with the greatest 
attention, observing, meantime, the pleasing 
expression of George’s countenance with a 
penetration that would have embarrassed a 
less candid nature. And how beautiful is 
such a nature, just as it issued from the hand 
of God, the flame of life neither dimmed nor 


24 


Only a Pm. 


extinguished by evil passions ! Having ra- 
pidly glanced over the work submitted to 
him, M. Wolff fixed his eyes upon George, 
and began, as the Americans say, to calculate 
what promise of sincerity his countenance in- 
dicated. 

“ Very well ; I ask no other bondsman than 
yourself. You shall be at the head of our 
Canadian service, and attend to that corre- 
spondence. Your writing pleases me ; I am 
particular about that. Strangers are apt to 
measure our attention to business by the 
clearness and precision of our reports. I lost 
one of our best customers because your pre- 
decessor’s writing was too full of flourishes, 
and he turned back his d’s like weeping wil- 
lows. Listen much, but speak little ; be care- 
ful in expressing your opinion, even on any 
subject ; don’t prevaricate ; guard against bad 
company; form no friendships without con- 
sulting me ; think often of your mother, this 
thought will sustain you amidst the labors of 
your toilsome situation, for life here is a pur- 
gatory, and we are indefatigable. As you 
have no relations near, you shall have a room 
in the building and two hundred francs. I will 
see you again. Go, dear child.” 

All this was said in English, and in the brief 
tone habitual to M. Wolff. But he had not 
expressed all that he thought of the satisfac- 


Only a ' Pin, 25 

tory manner in which George had performed 
the heavy task imposed upon him. 

“ He is the very man I need,” said he to 
himself — “ education and modesty, simplicity 
and confidence, activity and clearness of judg- 
ment, how seldom we find such a character ! 
That boy will make his way ! ” 


VI. 


HIS PROGRESS. 

ONSIEUR WOLFF had 
spoken truly ; the house 
was a purgatory for work. 
This agreeable man, who 
received much company, 
mingled a great deal with 
the world, gave consider- 
able attention to the fine 
arts, was zealous in public 
affairs and charitable du- 
ties, by a problem which cannot be solved, 
was always at his post. Yes, always. Long 
before day, he had already written several 
letters, and inspected every desk, glancing 
at each department of the house, judging the 
absent by the state of their paper and pens, 
never allowing the least irregularity, much 
less a minute’s tardiness. 

In one of these early visits, he suddenly 
came upon George busy at his desk, which 
was lighted by the feeble rays of an almost 
expiring lamp, and so absorbed in the work 



Only a Pin, 27 

before him that he did not even hear M. Wolff 
enter. 

“ This is a well-guarded house,” said the 
banker ; “ how did you get in here, for I have 
just opened the safety lock ? ” 

“ I beg monsieur to excuse me,” answered 
George ; a very important affair with Mont- 
real had to be settled by daybreak this morn- 
ing, and there was no other way of accom- 
plishing it. Thank Heaven, that work is fin- 
ished, and I believe that, by writing this morn- 
ing to Havre, our interests are secured.” 

“ George, I ought to scold you,” said M. 
Wolff. “ What you have done gives bad ex- 
ample, and compromises your responsibility. 
Are you master here ? You should have con- 
sulted me. How fatigued your eyes must be ! 
Go rest a few hours, and do not be guilty of 
the same fault again.” 

Then kindly recalling him, after having 
rapidly examined the parcel, he said : 

‘‘ George, you are a brave fellow, and your 
mother is blessed in having such a child. 
Take care of yourself for her sake. I have 
been anxious about this Montreal business, 
for these debtors are vexatious, and the affair 
is grave. I have just seen how far you had 
advanced, and perceive that the least delay had 
proved fatal. You have done a very good 
thing for me, and perhaps for yourself.” 


28 


Only a Pin, 


Notwithstanding these expressions of es- 
teem, it sometimes happened that George 
was scolded in reality for working at unsea- 
sonable hours, and overtaxing his strength; 
but he always apologized so frankly, alleging 
the urgency of the occasion, that M. Wolff 
was more and more pleased with his young 
assistant’s modesty and abilities. 


VII. 


THE GREAT WORLD. 

ONSIEUR WOLFF remark- 
ed that George was always 
very plainly and sometimes 
even negligently dressed. 

‘‘ George,” said he one 
day, “ a sensible man like 
you should take care of his 
pennies. Have you any 
objection to showing me 
your account-book ? Do 
not be offended, it is for your own interest 
I ask the question. I fear your salary is not 
sufficient.” 

“No, monsieur; quite the contrary. 
Thanks to your liberality, I can even save a 
little.” 

And he presented M. Wolff an account- 
book bound in linen, which the latter, hastily 
running over, returned without a word, for 
he did not wish to betray his emotion. 

George, after sending his poor mother more 
than half his salary, had also expended a 
part in charity. 



3P 


Only a Pm. 


The next day, M. Wolff said to him : 

“ You must give us a little of your society 
at my house. I often entertain Americans 
who do not speak French, and your presence 
would be very desirable ; but all the expense 
of entertainment is mine. We expect you to 
dinner. You are to have a salary of three 
thousand francs, and the first quarter’s pay is 
now due.” 

It was without the least embarrassment 
that at seven o’clock poor George found him- 
self seated at a sumptuous table, surrounded 
by people of wealth and position, differing 
widely from his own straitened circumstances. 
It certainly would have been unbecoming in 
him to have led the conversation or sought 
display. So young a man should be like the 
harp, breathing forth its sweet melodies only 
when touched by skilful fingers. 

I was to be a witness of his success, for, 
by an attention to which I was far from 
insensible, George had not forgotten his faith- 
ful companion, but, taking me from his old 
working-coat, had pinned me carefully in the 
sleeve of a new one, which added much to 
his naturally genteel, elegant appearance. 

M. Wolff, in his office the austere, im- 
passible worker, became at table and in so- 
ciety a brilliant conversationalist and most 
agreeable acquaintance. He possessed that 


Only a Pin. 


31 


rare faculty of reaching the minds of others, 
and unconsciously evoking from them theii 
choicest gifts of wit or knowledge, as Moses 
struck water from the rock, or the electric 
chain brings sparks from afar. In the discus- 
sions relative to the races, the fashionable 
amusements, the elegances of the day, 
George preserved a becoming silence, and ap- 
peared to listen with interest. But soon the 
conversation turned upon the particulars of 
his sojourn in Germany; he had observed 
much, he was well acquainted with all the 
arts, the monuments and antiquities of that 
country, and could talk on these subjects with 
an agreeable candor and simplicity. 

Madame Wolff was an elegant, gracious, 
and very frivolous lady. She regarded as a 
curiosity this grave personage of twenty-two, 
who, seriously discussing questions of Teu- 
tonic archaeology, left in his glass the sparkling 
wine so eagerly quaffed by the other guests. 

“Tell us, Mr. George,” said she, in a draw- 
ling, affected tone, not all uncommon witli 
fashionable ladies — “ do tell us the history of 
that wonderful pin there is so much talk 
about, and which you still wear upon your 
sleeve, I believe. Is it a precious talisman?” 

Of course everybody’s attention was di- 
rected towards the poor young fellow and 
my little head glittering upon his new cuff. 


32 


Only a Pin, 


George, who was never at a loss when 
speaking of his studies, his duties, or his 
business, became timid and embarrassed at 
such a question directly concerning himself, 
and particularly when a charming woman 
thus interrogated him before a whole assem- 
bly. 

“ Madame,” said he, in a soft, tremulous 
voice, “ I ought to regard this little pin as a 
talisman, for it has been the means of plac- 
ing me in a situation where I can assist 
those who are dear to me, and, moreover, 
thanks to M. Wolffs kindness, it has given 
me admission to your house. I am sensible 
of all the obligations such favors impose 
upon me, and I wish always to keep this 
precious pin as a memento of these obliga- 
tions, should I ever be inclined to forget 
them.” 

A murmur of approbation followed this 
prudent response. My history was then 
related and commented upon by a group of 
curious women, who, speaking in a half- 
whisper, from time to time glanced at George, 
the hero of the adventure. To withdraw his 
attention from this scrutiny, he - continued 
the conversation with his neighbors upon the 
school of painting at Diisseldorf, for he was 
well acquainted with the principal masters. 

The company passed on to the drawing- 


Only a Pin, 


33 


room. A lady seated herself at the piano, and 
began a sweet, touching melody, not one 
of those difficult scientific pieces, the music 
reminding us of a battle, and the performance 
of St. George’s combat with the dragon. 
Waves of harmony floated upon the air- 
soft, delicious reveries, enchaining the soul 
and sense. 

‘‘ Encore ! encore ! ” cried the assembled 
listeners. 

“ And that beautiful nocturn of Schubert’s 
that has almost drawn tears from our eyes,” 
said M. Wolff — “ can you not favor us with it 
this evening?” 

“ I have not four hands,” said the lady. 

Will you help me ? ” 

There was a silence. 

“ How unfortunate!” said Madame Wolff. 
‘‘ Is there no one here who can second 
you ? ” 

“ If you will permit me, madame,” said 
George, “ I will try ; I have often heard this 
beautiful German melody, and believe I have 
not forgotten it.” 

His good-will was applauded, and his per- 
formance of this admirable piece made a pro- 
found sensation. The company requested a 
repetition of the last part, which was executed 
with wonderful beauty of expression, and the 
lady herself was much astonished at her young 


34 


Only a Pin. 


assistant’s taste and correctness. M. Wolff, 
a passionate lover of music, was in raptures. 

“You know something else, then, besides 
figures, sir,” said he familiarly. 

“ Is it the pin also that has taught you 
Jiow to charm us all with your music ? ” said 
Madame Wolff. “ You will lend it to me, at 
least ? ” 

George bowed, and, filled with a confusion 
that only rendered him more interesting, im- 
mediately sought his place amidst a group of 
talkers 


VIII. 


THE PICTURE-GALLERY. 

TER a long and serious com- 
mercial conversation with 
George in his office, M. Wolff 
said : 

“ We have talked business 
enough for one day. Tell me, 
George, for I was listening to 
you the other day, do you know 
anything about paintings ? 

‘‘ Not the least technical 
knowledge of paintings,'' said George ; but 
I have seen many good ones, and derived 
a great deal of pleasure from looking at 
them. How many happy hours have I not 
spent with my excellent father in the gal- 
leries of the Louvre ! We enjoyed them 
in sips as one tastes wine ; then some- 
times we formed the resolution of looking 
only at three pictures, but studying those 
three well. In this case, we advanced slowly 
and with downcast eyes, making our way- 
along the brilliant galleries by counting the 
pedestals of the columns. ‘ Here we are,' said 



3 ^ 


Only a Pin, 


my father, and then we lifted up our eyes 
before a Correggio, a Raphael, a Leonardo da 
Vinci. Our attention, entirely fresh and vig- 
orous, was bent upon a careful study of these 
masterpieces. Seated upon a large divan in 
this palace, and beside a dear father, I con- 
templated these works, whilst he explained 
to me as an artist, a connoisseur, and a man 
of general information, the characteristic dif- 
ferences of each school, the curious anecdotes 
related of celebrated painters, whose lives 
like those of the saints, have become 
golden legends. Ah ! happy times ! — joyful 
days that will never return ! ” 

Why not ?” 

“ Because,” said George, the time for that 
sort of pleasure is past ; sorrow, which must 
come sooner or later, came early for me. I 
had to sacrifice my tastes, and I assure you, 
that I still find pleasure in this sacrifice, for 
work near you, monsieur, who received a 
perfect stranger with such paternal kindness, 
is comforting and cheering.” 

“ Well, then, Mr. Philosopher, since you are 
so submissive to my will, to-day you will 
give your attention to art instead of corre- 
spondence. It is a magnificent day ; follow 
me, and, if you wish, note the long lines of 
the brilliant gallery, since you seem to think 
that the best manner of courting the Muses.” 


Only a Pin, 


37 


They passed through several halls, and 
opening, with a show of flourish, a double 
folding-door hung with heavy tapestry, ‘‘What 
do you think of that. Monsieur Connoisseur ?” 
said the banker. 

We should have mentioned that his collec- 
tion of paintings was celebrated throughout 
Europe. George found himself in a long gal- 
lery of severe style, but in excellent taste ; the 
soft, harmonizing light, descending from the 
arch of the edifice, revealed nothing that was 
commonplace, nothing doubtful, superfluous; 
here were specimens of each school and of 
each master, one picture only, that a master- 
piece. The pictures did not touch; they 
were not crowded together like passengers 
side by side in an overflowing omnibus ; and 
in the large spaces between these pictures, 
which rested each one against a green back- 
ground, were placed marble statues, some 
from Italy, others the production of our own 
charming and fertile French school. At 
first, George was dazzled ; the authenticity of 
each painting was as evident as the existence 
of the painting itself. It is hardly necessary 
to say that in this palace the Italian school 
reigned supreme, the Roman school celebra- 
ted for its imagination, that of Florence for 
purity, and of Venice for its brilliant, passion- 
ate coloring. Spain was represented by a V elas- 


38 


Only a Pin. 


quez of groat taste, and a Murillo for whose 
posstssion the very sovereigns of the world 
would have been willing to bid against one 
another at a public sale. Teniers, Rubens, 
and Van Dyck transported the spectator to 
the most flourishing period of the Flemish 
school. As for Holland, what an irreproach- 
able choice of her masters, so amusing, so 
varied ! — a landscape by Ruysdael, a bouquet 
by Van Huysum, an interior by Gerard 
Dow — nothing was wanting. 

Here also were seen the favorite masters of 
the French school — Claude Lorraine, Greuze, 
Prud’hon, surrounded by a host of less lumi- 
nous, though celebrated painters. 

George seemed inattentive and dreamy ; the 
sight of a little picture hanging in one corner 
had violently affected him, but he endeavored 
to conceal his emotion. 

“ You say nothing,” said M. Wolff ; “ does 
not this collection appear to you worthy of 
interesting an amateur ? ” 

“ It is sublime,” answered George ; “ there 
could not have been a better choice. I could 
tell you the name of each picture in the gal- 
lery ; they are true. How happily one could 
pass his life in this paradise, admiring the 
power of art, imploring the benediction of 
these Holy Virgins ! What a blessing is for- 
tune when it procures us the possession of 


Only a Pin. 39 

such treasures ! How I would like to be 
rich ! ” 

“Ah ! ” said M. Wolff, “ my philosopher is 
already at fault. Do you not see, M. Envy, 
that there is a diamond wanting to this 
crown ? Look around for the great master of 
Parma, the regenerator of the art, Correggio ; 
he is missing.” 

“You shall have one; but I feel greatly 
fatigued, can scarcely see and talk,” said 
George, smiling. “ Perhaps it is from looking 
at too many beautiful paintings at once — I 
who am accustomed to but three at a time. 
I am unworthy of remaining here any longer ; 
yet it will afford me the greatest pleasure if 
you will sometimes permit me to return.” 

M. Wolff was charmed with having found a 
connoisseur. 

“ You may not only return,” said he, “ but 
it shall be a part of your duty to come here 
and work. I have sought this means of turn- 
ing your mind from your other occupations, 
in which you are too much absorbed. Would 
you like to be the guardian of this museum ? 
If you know how to enjoy things without 
possessing them ; if, for an artist like you, see- 
ing is having, these pictures then belong to 
both of us. Now, M. Guardian, I will give you 
two thousand ftancs salary. You shall be 
brought in contact with artists, picture deal- 


40 


‘ Only a Pin. 


ers, and amateurs. The first work I require 
is an analytical catalogue of my collection. I 
have been wanting it a long time, but have 
never found sufficient leisure to attempt it 
myself. I give you free scope in the matter. 
Be guided by your own judgment.” 

What a stroke of good-luck for our George, 
who was an artist by nature, all his instincts 
impelling him towards that life from which 
reason and necessity alone had withdrawn 
him to more positive occupations ! In mak- 
ing this sacrifice, he was resigned, yet the 
mention of these pursuits was fraught with 
pleasure ; he had sketched much and success- 
fully ; nothing was more in accordance with 
his tastes than such a proposition. 

He immediately entered upon the duties 
of his new office, infusing into this labor of 
love his characteristic spirit of order. In this 
gallery, the pictures were disposed almost at 
hazard, or rather, as the size and effect of each 
piece demanded. He classed them by schools, 
and gave the precise dimensions, wrote a short 
notice of each painter and an exact descrip- 
tion of the painting, carefully guarding 
against those exaggerated expressions of or-r 
dinary catalogues, but dwelling upon every 
particular which attested the superiority of 
the work. When this was finished, reviewed 
with scrupulous precision, and then recopied 


Only a Pin, 41 

as scrupulously, he placed it upon the desk 
in M. Wolff’s cabinet. 

The latter, running over it with curiosity, 
seemed very much pleased, but suddenly ex- 
claimed : 

“ Here is a mistake, my man of all trades. 
‘Allegro, by Correggio. Sorrow — the head 
of a woman.’ You have erroneously read the 
signature ; it is a charming study of Allori, 
and your error a pardonable one ; the simi- 
larity of names deceived you. I believe I 
mentioned to you my regret at not having a 
Correggio.” 

“ I believe I also answered that you should 
have one,” said George. 

“ What do you mean ? Do you suppose I 
would lend myself to such a deception ? 
Know, my young friend, that everything in 
this sanctuary of art is as pure as the purest 
gold, and fraud shall never enter.” 

“ Very far from my mind was all idea of 
fraud,” answered George. “ I have not, I 
must confess, attentively examined the signa- 
ture, but I still say that, in my opinion, it is 
a valuable Correggio. Please read those few 
lines following the designation of the picture.”- 

“ Let us see, then,” said M. Wolff. 

And he read : “ ‘ Antonio Allegro, by Cor- 
reggio. Sorrow — a woman’s head.’ ” 

Do you really believe it, George ? 


42 


Only a Pin. 


“ Read on a little,” answered George. 

“ ‘A young girl in the attitude of medita- 
tion, a thin black drapery thrown over her 
uncovered neck, a pale star sparkling upon 
her forehead. The ideal expression of this 
head, the irreproachable execution of the 
hands, attest the master’s touch. The sombre 
drapery but increases the beauty of this 
white shoulder, through which are seen the 
light bluish veins, almost throbbing with the 
pulse of life. A good copy of this picture is 
preserved in the museum at Munich. The 
precious original, of which we give a descrip- 
tion, formed part of the celebrated Dussel- 
dorf gallery, and was there admired under the 
name of “ Sorrow,” given in remembrance of 
its unfortunate master.’ ” 

“ Is it possible ? ” said M. Wolff. “ But we 
cannot prove it. Come, come ! ” 

And he dragged George off to the gallery 
with almost breathless anxiety. 

In strange contrast to their agitation was 
the unspeakable serenity of this beautiful pic- 
ture, this inspiration of genius which had 
outlasted ages, this undying thought of the 
master’s mind and heart. The hand that 
traced it was cold and motionless, or, resolved 
into its native element, was scattered to the 
winds; but the thought embodied here sur- 
vived, the picture almost lived and breathed. 


Only a Pin, 


43 

M. Wolff very cautiously disengaged it from 
the wall. 

“ Allegro ! ” he exclaimed, deciphering the 
half-effaced name. 

George, still seeking some proof of his 
assertion, looked on the back of the picture, 
Avhich was painted upon an old wooden pa- 
nel, and almost under the frame saw : “ Parma, 
1525.” He read it aloud. 

“Allegro! Parma!” cried M. Wolff. 
“ George, I am too happy ; do congratulate 
me ! And carefully replacing the picture, 
he gave vent to his delight. 

“ Twenty years ago, I bought it for an 
Allori. I gave an old Jew of Frankfort five 
hundred florins for it. Finding it a fine pic- 
ture, I have never sold it, and to-day I would 
not let it go for ten times that sum. But 
how humiliating to think that I have, unawares, 
possessed a treasure so long, and that a child 
must open my eyes ! There must be some 
sorcery, George. I shall finish by believing 
in your talisman.” 

“ My discovery,” said George, “ is the most 
natural thing in the world. Did you not 
notice my emotion on entering your gal- 
lery ? This pretty head was already very 
familiar, and I was surprised to find there a 
copy far superior to any I had ever seen. It 
is my constant companion.” 


44 


Only a Pin, 


Opening his portfolio, he showed the as- 
tonished banker a delicately finished sketch 
of this painting. Under it was written : 

After Correggio, Munich, May, i8 — 


IX. 


THE APPARITION. 

ERE was no longer any 
question amongst their 
friends as to George’s dis- 
covery, or M. Wolff’s 
happiness in possessing 
Correggio’s “ Allegro.” All 
doubts were at rest, the 
proofs beyond dispute. 
George recounted how, in 
attending to the business 
of his uncle, 'a merchant of Germany, with 
whom he studied commerce, it was frequently 
necessary for him to visit the various cities, 
Dresden, Vienna, Munich ; how he had taken 
advantage of these opportunities to cultivate 
his taste for the fine arts by visiting the 
museums, and carefully noting their treasures. 
At Munich, that city of art, he received news 
of his father’s death, which plunged him into 
the deepest affliction. Only a sentiment 
of duty towards the surviving family sus- 
tained him under this heavy blow, and urged 
him to seek, in his favorite studies, that relief 



40 07 ily a Pin, 

and composure necessary to the fulfilment of 
his task. 

It was in such a frame of mind he found 
himself one day, whilst seated in one of those 
splendid galleries at Munich. Treasures of 
beauty and art were around him, but he saw 
them not ; his wayward thoughts would dwell 
upon that good father who had always been 
tender and affectionate ; he reproached him- 
self for his protracted absence, and bitterly 
bemoaned his father’s dying moments — dying, 
and his son not there to hear his last words, 
to receive his last farewell, or to feel upon his 
youthful head the last benediction of those 
venerated hands about to be folded in eternal 
repose. 

Carelessly glancing up whilst absorbed in 
this meditation, he saw before him an appari- 
tion partially lost in the fading distance. It 
was a young girl whose countenance was 
more than beautiful. A bitter sorrow, leaving 
its impress on those features, had but increas- 
ed their purity and sweetness ; the clear, 
penetrating look bade suffering defiance, like 
that virgin martyr who, entering the bloody 
arena, said, in a loud voice, to the imperial 
Caesar : “ I am a Christian.” This beautiful 
figure, modestly holding the black drapery 
thrown over her uncovered neck, seemed to 
address George in tones of sisterly affection : 


Only a Pin. 


47 


“And I, George, have I not suffered too? 
Have I not lost what was best and dearest to 
me in this world ? Am I not utterly alone ? 
Yet sorrow shall not crush mie ; I have con- 
fidence, and will live upon the memories of 
the past. But you, George, have more than 
memories : you have duties — a mother whose 
tears you must wipe away ; sisters who look 
up to you for guidance and support, friends 
who will console you."' Ah ! more than 
these were the comforting words of this gentle 
vision. 

Arousing from his reverie, George found 
himself gazing at Correggio’s “ Allegro.” 

Frequently he returned and took his seat 
before this beautiful picture, this confidante 
of his woes. Its sorrowful yet triumphantly 
serene expression touched his heart. All 
conversation was painful to him, but these 
mute interviews with the “ Allegro ” brought 
peace. When it became necessary for him to 
leave Munich, he obtained permission to 
make a sketch of this painting, which was not 
in reality the original, only an admirable copy 
made by a German painter in the seventeenth 
century. So his having this precious image 
ever before his mind enabled him to make 
M. Wolff acquainted with the true value of 
what that gentleman had so long and uncon- 
sciously possessed. 


X. 


THE WAGER. 

W thoughtless, how heart- 
less, the conduct of a 
thoroughly worldly wo- 
man ! Curiosity, lack of 
occupation, satiety of 
amusements, necessarily 
produce strange results ! 
To pass away that weary 
age which elapses between 
the last trial of a new dress 
and the first visit, between the concert and 
the ball, or the morning’s usual routine and a 
late dinner, what discoveries must be ferreted 
out, what adventures improvised, what fool- 
ish wagers laid ! And fluttering around these 
fashionable fair ones are their compeers of 
the other sex, polite, assiduous in their atten- 
tions, anxious to please, yet awakening more 
frequently sentiments of weariness and dis- 
gust. But certainly the frivolous court ought 
to be most congenial to the frivolous sove- 
reign, for v/ho could tell more agreeable news 
of the turf, of masked balls, of all the float- 



49 


Only a Pm, 

ing gossip, and even of that graver, more 
indispensable matter- — the money market ? 
Yet the conquest of such empty natures, 
such masculine nothings, is far from satisfying 
the vanity of even a very vain woman ; our 
listless heiress of a million thirsts after more 
noble captives. When wearied with the flat- 
tery and sameness of her fawning dandies, 
should she chance to meet a sensible, upright 
man, a stranger to the thousand frivolities of 
fashionable life, how eagerly she strives to 
captivate him ! How, keenly alive to the 
honor of such a conquest, her ambition is 
roused ! He must be vanquished, and here- 
after numbered in the train of her attend- 
ants. 

These reflections, which we hope are by no 
means applicable to the majority (for God 
preserve from the injustice of making the ex- 
ception a rule ! ), were occasioned by a conver- 
sation which took place among the gay occu- 
pants of Madame Wolff’s boudoir. 

My dear,” said a pretty visitor, “ your fa- 
vorite, Mr. George, is a regular savage ; one 
can make no impression upon him ; he is here 
in person (and quite an agreeable appearance 
he makes, we must all admit), but his mind is 
not here, and his heart I can’t say where. 
Did you ever observe his indifference in lis- 
tening to us ? Extremely polite, to be sure. 


50 


Ojtly a Pin^ 


but under this irreproachable politeness there' 
is indomitable pride. When he is in the 
room with a group of pretty women on one 
side, and grave men on the other, how quick- 
ly he forgets us, to mingle with the black- 
coats ! Ah ! yes ; under this appearance of 
simplicity, there is a touch of pedantry not 
the least flattering to ourselves ! ” 

“ And what,” said another good lady, is 
this mystification about a magic pin which he 
wears always upon his sleeve as a precious ta- 
lisman ? And many of such talismans have I 
bought at the rate of twenty-five for a sou. 
At table, the other day, did you not notice 
with what a magisterial air he disclosed the 
merits of the pin ? ” 

“ Ah ! my dear,” said a young lady, “ don’t 
you know that this pin is a fairy, which draws 
him towards the good and true as surely as 
the magnetic needle turns to the pole ? How 
I would like to have such a compass ! ” 

Madame Wolff, carelessly reclining upon a 
divan, had listened rather disdainfully to all 
these opinions ; half smiling, and in a drawling 
voice, she said : 

“ George will do just like everybody else 
here — that is, what I wish, and when I wish ; 
he will give me his pin, and with his own 
hand stick it in my ribbon.” 

“ But that pin is worth a fortune to him ; 


51 


Only a Pin. 

it is, in fact, all his fortune,” answered the 
credulous English lady. “ In Scotland, we 
have talismans also, which accomplish won- 
ders. Do you believe that without the help 
of this second sight he would ever have dis- 
covered in your gallery that painting of Cor- 
reggio, worth, in England, a thousand 
guineas ? I defy you to make him relinquish 
his talisman ! ” 

Very welf,” said Madame Wolff ; “if Fm 
in the notion, I shall accomplish it this very 
evening, and so effectually that no one will 
ever again see another upon our writing- 
master’s sleeve.” 

The subject, apparently an interesting one, 
seemed to afford much diversion. 

“ What do you bet that I shall not get the 
pin this evening ? ” 

“ Ten louis that you will not ! ” said the 
English lady. 

“ Twenty that I will ! ” answered Madame 
Wolff, suddenly springing up with viva- 
city. 

“ I would like to know what this poor 
young man has done to any one of you ? ” 
said a lady, turning from the piano, over 
which her fingers had been straying. “ He 
either cares for his pin or does not ; if he does 
not, what a beautiful conquest ! if he does, 
and really wishes to preserve it as a souvenir. 


52 


Only a Pin, 


you are certainly wrong in forming a con- 
spiracy to rob him of it! You complain of 
this boy’s reasoning well but talking little ; 
are there not enough who don’t reason at 
all, who know nothing, and talk on all occa- 
sions? I warn you that I take him under 
my protection.” 

“You can shelter him under the white 
wings of your angel guardianship,” said Ma- 
dame Wolff; “but be very careful, for the 
wager is laid, and I shall endeavor to gain 
it.” 

Perhaps our readers have already surmised 
that this amiable person who had taken upon 
herself the protection of the oppressed was 
the lady to whom George had been so oblig- 
ing an assistant at the piano. She was of 
Italian origin, and named Mile. Borghese ; 
she was kind and good, less frivolous than 
those around her, because she knew how to 
occupy her time ; passionately devoted to 
music, in which she excelled, her society was 
much appreciated and sought after in the 
house of Baron Wolff, where she was fami- 
liarly termed Borghdse. She had no preten- 
sions to beauty, and all ideas of marriage 
seemed foreign to that spirit of independence 
characteristic of an artist. An ample fortune 
gave her considerable freedom of speech, and 
her tone and manners v/ere what the world 


07 ily a Pin, 53 

would term those of a kind-hearted, good- 
natured disposition. 

The gay party separated, after making an 
appointment for the evening, that each one’s 
curiosity might not be kept in suspense as to 
the result of the adventure. 


XL 


CORREGGIO’S ANTIOPE. 



ORGHESE, if we may be per- 
mitted to call her by this familiar 
name, spent a part of her life in 
this hospitable, brilliant m.ansion, 

, where she had an apartment, 
and was perfectly acquainted 
with all the ways and customs 
of the household. 

She was well aware, for in- 
stance, that, after having passed 
the morning with M. Wolff, George, about 
noon, repaired to the picture-gallery, and 
resumed the duties dependent on him there. 

A conservatory communicated with the 
gallery by two arcades, and thus the beauties 
of nature and art were mutually increased. 
Descending from the gallery by a gentle 
declivity and a thousand fanciful undulations, 
it extended as far as the great garden of the 
mansion. Here the richest, choicest plants ex- 
haled their fragrance ; bowers of orange, myr- 
tle, and pomegranate, with camellias and 
rhododendrons, concealed the silver thread of 


Only a Pin. 


55 


a rapid stream, which, joyously precipitating 
itself into a pink marble basin, scattered its 
white foam over the luxuriant flowers of 
arum, that resembled vases of unpolished 
silver filled with sparkling champagne. 

It was a delightful retreat, inviting one to 
reverie and repose. Borghese, well knowing 
that at this time only could the baroness 
find her victim, hastens to the conservatory, 
where, book in hand, she installs herself in one 
of the seats, beneath the shade of a heavy 
magnolia. 

George was already in the gallery, and had 
given orders to some workmen, who had now 
withdrawn. 

The baroness was a long time making her 
appearance, for she had to prepare herself 
for the . combat. At length, however, she 
entered through a low door; stripping the 
rose-leaves as she went, and following the 
sinuous pathways to the open gallery door, 
she passed very near Borghdse without see- 
ing her, and, after a little hesitation, stood on 
the threshold of the gallery. 

Poor George ! so artless and unsuspecting, 
will he succumb to these wiles, will he fall 
into this snare ? If I could but warn him ! 
I am only a little pin, to be sure, but woe to 
him if he lets me go ! 

The siren had selected a costume most in 


56 


Only a Pin, 

harmony with her surroundings : her hair, 
that beautiful shade of light so admired by 
the Venetian masters, was lifted up in thick 
rolls, forming a heavy mass on the back of 
her head ; her white wrapper was very simple, 
and the uneven ends of her ribbon bow 
fell gracefully upon her breast. Thus the 
daughter of Eve, in this paradise of paintings, 
begins to enact anew the drama of old. She 
coughed slightly to attract George’s atten- 
tion, who, rising and saluting her respectfully, 
immediately disposed himself to work. 

^‘Oh! pardon me, Mr. George,” said she. 
‘‘ I thought I was alone. If not too much 
trouble, will you tell me the name of this 
singular plant, which seems afraid of me, and 
shudders when I touch it ? How strange ! I 
have never done it any harm.” 

As well as I can recollect, madame, it is a 
species of acacia which has the property of 
being sensitive to the touch.” 

“ And to what do you attribute this sensi- 
bility of a little branch, whilst so many persons 
touch my hand without the least emotion? ” 
“ I believe, madame,” said George quite 
seriously, “ that the poets have rather gratui- 
tously bestowed feeling upon this innocent 
plant. I have heard that the heat of one’s 
hand acts upon those delicate vessels con- 
taining the sap, and then — ” 


Only a Phu 


57 


“ Ah ! there you are with your learning, 
which destroys all poetry. Why not leave 
us under the beautiful delusion that Clytie 
always turns to the sun, or Narcissus admires 
his image in the water ? Can it be that so 
many bright things in nature have neither 
voice nor thought ? ’’ 

“ Excuse me, madame, but I believe the 
seat of poetry to be in the soul ; it is an ex- 
alted idea of what strikes our imagination, 
and this poesy, these sentiments, we uncon- 
sciously attribute to the inanimate objects 
surrounding us. Thus, the willow weeps 
over the last resting-place of our dead, be- 
cause its swaying foliage resembles the dis- 
hevelled hair of a sorrowful mother bending 
over a cradle.” 

In what a cheering strain you do talk ! 
Couldn’t you have made a comparison just 
the least bit brighter?” said the lady, in a 
doleful tone, as she reclined upon the divan. 

Lifting her arms above her head, in that 
charming attitude which painters have given 
Erigone, she detached from a branch of 
pomegranate, almost touching her forehead, a 
beautiful blossom, and at first carelessly put it 
between those lips which rivalled the flower 
itself in brilliancy, but afterwards, with some 
show of affectation, attached it to her sash. 

“As for me, I prefer to believe that the 


58 


Only a Pin. 


murmuring stream is calling in a‘ gentle voice 
to the thirsty bird, that the breeze caresses, 
me, and that the echo is a friendly voice re- 
sponding to my own. You, too, Mr. George, 
though you do not endorse all this, you also 
have your weaknesses, and this eternal pin, 
which you always wear as a corporal does his 
galloon, is a proof of your credulity.” 

“ Excuse this weakness, madam ; I must 
give myself up to your derision ; but, as I have 
told you, here have I found family, friends, 
generous hospitality. No doubt it is childish, 
but sincere, my wish to preserve, as a precious 
memento, the little pin to which I am indebted 
for all these blessings ; and if any sacrifice — ” 
“ That is all very well,” said the lady, in a 
somewhat mollified tone ; ‘‘ yet, if I were to 
request of you the least sacrifice of your 
tastes, of your most youthful fancies, you, the 
sage, the philosopher George, just now so 
grateful, would not gratify me ! ” 

“ Madame, is it possible you can believe 
me guilty of such ingratitude?” 

“ Give me that pin, then,” said she, in a 
stifled voice, and opening her beautiful eyes. 

George began to be very much embar- 
rassed. 

“ How sleep overcomes me ! ” added she. 
“The perfume of these orange blossoms is 
really intoxicating. George, you are exact- 


59 


Only a Pin. 

ing, and will give nothing in return for no- 
thing. I wish to propose a fair exchange. 
This flower, which I would not give to every 
one, is yours, if you will only attach your pin 
to my pink bow. I really want it.” 

She appeared to have fallen asleep ; the 
conversation was interrupted, and George re- 
lieved from his embarrassing position. 

“ What an admirable picture — Correggio’s 
Antiope ! ” said he, looking with an artist’s 
eye upon the sleeping figure. 

Glancing first at the beautiful blossom still 
nestled amidst her ribbons, and then at me, 
poor little pin, he stood, neither daring to 
move nor say a word. 

At this moment, fortunately for me, per- 
haps, there arose from behind the divan an 
unexpected apparition. Have you ever seen, 
in a celebrated portrait of Ingres, a muse, 
placed in the background of the picture, ex- 
tending her arm over the pensive head of a 
grand composer ? Thus the tall figure of 
Borgh^se towered above the divan of a slum- 
bering Antiope. She made a sign to George, 
who gently disappeared behind the bushes, 
happy at this unexpected termination of an 
affair which had placed me in so much jeo- 
pardy. 

Borghese, smiling, followed him with her 
eyes until he was out of sight, then, bending 


6o 


Only a Pin. 

over the sleeping beauty, cautiously stuck a 
pin in the pink ribbon, detached the flower as 
cautiously, and, imprinting a kiss upon the 
soft cheek, hastily disappeared to a distant 
part of the garden. 

Was Antiope really asleep, or only drowsy ? 
I know not. Suddenly a crimson, rivalling 
that of the flower, spread itself over her face. 
She opened her eyes, looked all around, and 
saw no one. 

“ The impertinent scamp ! ” she cried. 

And glancing at her sash, the flower was 
gone, but in her pink ribbon shone the pin. 
For very shame, she buried her face in her 
hands ! 

Weep ! noble lady, weep ! since, in spite of 
your follies, there still remains the sentiment 
of honor and duty. Is it indolence, weariness 
of splendor, egotism, that has led you so far ? 
Do you not see around you enough miseries 
to succor, tears to wipe away, good to be ac- 
complished — you who have but to open your 
hands that blessings may be diffused around ? 

Cannot sorrow’s plaintive voice penetrate 
the thick walls of your splendid dwelling, the 
rich tapestry of your apartments ? Do not her 
groans find an echo in your heart ? Forget- 
ting the pure and only sources of happiness, 
why will you vainly seek it amidst danger ? 

But, say you, it is really a matter of no 


Only a Pin. 


6i 


consequence — a pin, a flower, even a kiss. Is 
it of no consequence to worry with your wiles 
the youth you should protect, to ruffle with 
your enchantments the serenity of an irre- 
proachable conscience, and all for the sake of 
a little amusement, a little excitement ? How 
far do you suppose this sport will take you ? 

It was the voice of a tardy conscience that 
spoke, for Madame Wolff really loved and re- 
spected the husband who rendered her life so 
happy, and was for her the tenderest of fa- 
thers. Notwithstanding her Creole origin, 
her youth and inexperience, her light, trifling 
habits, she was truly an honorable, faithful 
wife. Covered with confusion at the disre- 
spect George had shown her, and tormented 
with the consciousness of having brought it 
upon herself, she retired pensive to her apart- 
ments, uncertain what course to pursue here- 
after. 


XIL 


THE CORREGGIO. 

ORGE, ill-satisned with his 
morning’s work, and re- 
proaching himself with hav- 
ing neglected duty for idle 
conversation, suddenly re- 
membered that there was 
barely time for him to ful- 
fil an appointment with a 
celebrated artist. 

And, in fact, he was too 
late ; the artist had gone to the Jardin des 
Plantes, where he held a professorship. 

The public gardens at Paris are, generally 
speaking, certain meadows where genteel 
people congregate, in moments of recreation, 
to inhale dust, and pay nothing for the privi- 
lege. The Jardin des Plantes, however, 
forms a happy exception, and it has been too 
often described for me to do more than mere- 
ly recall its labyrinthine mysteries, its rustic 
cabins sheltering the animals, its farm, with 
winged fowls strutting about, its rich garden- 
beds, radiant with flowers, or its immense 



Only a Pin. 63 

green-houses nurturing the luxuriant vegeta- 
tion of the tropics. 

Let us follow George, who regards with in- 
difference all these beautiful objects, as he 
passes through on his way to the edifice 
where the .celebrated professor gave lessons. 
What a strange, curious spectacle ! What a 
scene worthy the phantasms of a summer 
night ! A vast room, lighted by a great 
number of high windows ; the walls orna- 
mented with glass vessels containing mon- 
strous serpents, hideous toads, salam.anders, 
fantastic dragons, various creatures of de- 
formity, all swimming like preserved fruits ! 

Lifting our eyes to the platform, stranger, 
more frightful creatures menace us — croco- 
diles with immense open jaws, alligators, 
boas with spiral rings, great fish armed with 
a saw or sword, colossal skates, their im- 
mense mouths seemingly extended in a 
beastly laugh, spherical fish like a big bal- 
loon bristling with a thousand points — all 
were here, and even more : there were name- 
less things seen nowhere else ! 

But ovcrcomdng the terror and disgust 
inspired at first, let us rest our eyes upon the 
animated part of this study-hall — what a de- 
lightful contrast ! 

At each table, and facing the light, sits a 
young v/oman in the attitude of study, before 


64 


Only a Pin. 


her a branch of flowers or an elegant model. 
The attention is general and well sustained, 
the pleasant half-whispered conversation be- 
ing only a good-morning exchanged or some 
kindly-given advice. What a charming spec- 
tacle ! — these young girls, with their green 
branches, their perfumed flowers, their fruits, 
their intelligent, graceful work. 

George, timidly entering this sanctuary, 
was about to address the porter, when he saw 
emerge from an adjoining apartment a short, 
fat man, whose physiognomy would have 
been decidedly vulgar, except for the great 
intelligence and vivacity of his forehead and 
eyes. “ He was the high-priest of Flora and 
Pomona.” 

Both arms were filled with immense 
bunches of the freshest, rarest flowers ; 
he could certainly have entrusted them to 
the porter who followed empty-handed ; but, 
no ; he carried them himself, tenderly, loving- 
ly, as a father takes a dear child from its 
nurse to soothe and caress it himself. Smil- 
ing, and proud of his treasures, he walked 
around the room, distributing them according 
to the progress and talent of each scholar. 
This one received a branch of periwinkle, that 
one a bouquet of camellias ; all were content. 

The happy professor reigning over this 
charming kingdom was the celebrated Re- 


07 ily a Pm, 


65 


doute, whose inimitable facile talent has 
marked out an epoch by simplifying the pro- 
cesses of the art, purifying the taste, teach- 
ing a careful study of nature, propagating an 
attractive study, and leaving to his favorite 
scholars the secret of his magic pencil. I 
have said the happy professor, for he num- 
bered among the most delightful days of his 
life those spent amidst his scholars, surround- 
ed by three things that he loved above all — 
art, flowers, and, if it must be told, the youth 
and beauty grouped around these flowers. 

Among the most skilful flower painters, 
we can mention Mesdames Chantereine, De- 
laporte-Bessin, and D’Esmenard, who, in their 
limpid water-color sketches, have preserved 
the pure tradition of Redoute, their friend 
and master. 

Having given George a short audience con- 
cerning a picture M. Wolff was anxious to 
have painted, Redoutd, discovering George’s 
artistic tastes, invited him to make a tour of 
the room. 

“ What a providential contrast ! ” said he, 
with a peculiar emphasis quite natural to 
him when speaking of his favorite subject. 

He pointed out a slender, elegant vase, 
in which, from the midst of its long lance- 
olate leaves, majestically arose a splendid 
lily ; a branch of clematis from the same vase 


66 


Only a Pin, 


rose up beside the lily, as if to embrace the 
pure chalice, then, seemingly intoxicated with 
the beauty and perfume, languishing and ex- 
hausted, it fell back in graceful spirals, hum- 
bly reposing at the lily’s feet. Redoute re- 
mained some time admiring this picture of 
majestic beauty and gentle gracefulness. ' 

“ How lovely ! ” said he. Then giving some 
slight hints to the lady who had undertaken the 
production of this happy group, he passed on. 

Upon another table was a little urn con- 
taining a camellia, a rose, and a petunia, all 
of the purest white, which was heightened 
by contrast with the camellia’s sombre leaves. 
Looking first at the flowers, as he invariably 
did, “ It is not easy,” said he. 

Then bending over the young girl who 
copied : 

“ Do you know the difference between vel- 
vet, silk, and gauze ? ” 

‘‘ Very well, monsieur; this is silk,” show- 
ing her dress, “ and this is velvet,” pointing to 
her ribbon. 

“ You have made your three flowers on 
paper, but the camellia must be velvet, the 
rose silk, and the petunia gauze.” 

He was already at a distance. 

He seated himself at a table, and the 
scholars rose up on all sides to discover his 
secret. 


Only a Pin, 


67 


‘'Your fingers are like roses,” said he, “ and 
my fat fingers resemble those of a Danubian 
peasant, yet you come to look at me ! ” 

Taking a pencil, he plunged it into a vessel 
of clear water, scarcely touched the palette, 
applied the pencil to the blank vellum, and, 
lo ! as if by magic, appeared a large brilliant 
mallow, with its chalice of dark velvet. 
There was a burst of admiration. 

" Is that very difficult ? ” said he, and passed 
on. 

Before reaching the next table, a little 
apart from the others, he stopped, and, seizing 
George by the arm, directed his attention to 
a double spray of convolvulus, capriciously 
following the dictates of its nature, twining 
here and there its large corollas, blue, pink, 
and white, its sagittate leaves, its spiral ten 
drils, all grouped in the most happy manner. 
He then pointed out the attempted reproduc- 
tion, its freshness and fidelity, and, lastly, the 
young girl completely absorbed in her work. 
Here were reunited art, flowers, beauty. He 
remained in contemplation. 

The young artist, bending over her vellum, 
was too absorbed to have eyes or ears for any- 
thing else. 

“ There is a good picture,” said Redoutd 
aloud to George, who stood beside him at the 
table. 


68 


Only a Pin. 


The young girl lifted her head, and per- 
ceived for the first time that her toilet was 
somewhat disarranged ;• amidst the eagerness, 
animation, and love of her work, a thin black 
scarf thrown round her neck had become 
loosened and partially slipped off, leaving bare 
the shoulders and a part of her neck. The 
heat being excessive, she had not noticed that 
the scarf was off, until her attention was ar- 
rested by the voice beside her. A vivid crim- 
son suffused her usually pale features ; in great 
confusion, she caught the rebellious scarf, 
and appeared to be in search of something. 

“ Take care, you will spoil your painting ! ” 
exclaimed the master. “ You want a pin. Ah I 
here is one, fortunately — here is one monsieur 
has in his coat-sleeve.’' And he took me out 
of the coat-sleeve. George, after a moment’s 
hesitation, nervously handing me to the young 
woman, said : 

“ Be careful not to lose it.” 

She looked at him with an air of astonish- 
ment, and, smiling, took the pin. 

Had the artist been pretty only, she would 
never have attracted the attention of so seri- 
ous and inobservant a man as George ; but, 
by one of those singular coincidences seldom 
known beyond the realms of romance, his 
almost startled gaze was immediately fixed 
upon her. 


O^ily a Pm, 


69 


The splendor of her forehead, her well- 
pencilled eyebrows, her soft eyes shaded by 
dark silken lashes, her pure, frank counte- 
nance with its tinge of melancholy, all vividly 
recalled a loved image that had been to him 
consolation and balm in hours of sorrow. Im- 
agination had doubtless added her mite to 
this fortuitous resemblance, but still for him 
it was the living, wonderful original of 
Correggio’s “ Allegro ” that breathed and 
blushed before him. 

Nothing was wanting to the picture, neither 
the pale star upon her forehead, figured by an 
eglantine which a friend had stealthily slipped 
into her hair, nor the black scarf floating over 
her white shoulders, nor the bouquet of large 
scabiosa which Redoute, by a touching an- 
alogy, had thrown upon the table in his dis- 
tribution of flowers. 

Her abundant mass of hair, blacker than 
ebony, was- arranged in a loosely twisted coil, 
from which escaped several heavy ringlets 
falling gracefully upon her neck. But one 
very remarkable feature increased, if possible, 
his interest in this living picture : a tiny lock 
of white hair, like a thin fillet of quicksilver 
upon waves of ink, was the seal of suffering 
imprinted upon her forehead. 

Youth' and beauty sorrowing ! — what an 


70 


Only a Pin. 


attractive mirage ; what an inexplicable trea- 
sure for a pure-hearted man to find ! 

Let others seek happiness in multiplying 
fortune by fortune, in giving all to those who 
want nothing, in worldly vanities, festivities, 
ambitious projects ; but for him, dearer the 
ambition that looked forward to the hope of 
loving, consoling, serving, as its highest 
earthly goal. 

George, plunged in this reverie, was aroused 
by Redoute, who, having complimented and 
encouraged his scholar, accompanied the 
visitor to the door, promising to go soon and 
look at a painting of Van. Huysum’s, of which 
he was to make a copy for the baron’s gal- 
lery. The visitor turned and gave another 
glance at the living picture which had so 
fascinated him. 


XIII. 


THE DEPARTURE. 

EORGE hastened to resume 
the work which had suffered 
a little in his absence. That 
evening, the ladies were as- 
sembled in the drawing- 
room, lightly discussing the 
day’s adventures. 

“ And our wager? ” said 
the English lady. 

I have lost it,” replied 
Madame Wolff, blushing. I was too fast. 
Here are the twenty louis, my dear lady ; the 
poor shall not lose by it, and I acknowledge 
myself vanquished.” 

Thoughtful and quiet, Madame Wolff, 
pleading indisposition, kept aloof from the 
company. 

The baron also appeared anxious and rest- 
less, and to his wife every glance spoke a re- 
proach. 

The English lady gaily conversed with her 
friends. 

What is the matter with our dear baron- 



72 


Only a Pm. 


ess ? I am going to return her money, for I 
believe she really won the wager. I fear, 
however, the victory cost her more than she 
expected.’’ 

“ What do you mean? ” enquired a chorus 
of curious feminine voices. 

“ Don’t you observe Mr. George’s smiling, 
triumphant air? Look now at his coat- 
sleeve — do you see any pin? No; and you 
never will see it there again, but perhaps 
some one else knows where it is ! ” 

Is it true,” said a young lady, advancing 
towards George, ‘‘ that you have given up 
wearing that pin which you ought never to 
be without ? ” 

I have lost it, mademoiselle,” said George, 
smiling. “ The charm is broken, and I am 
now defenceless against unhappiness.” 

“ George,” said M. Wolff, who, a stranger 
to these frivolous conversations, seemed to 
be busily engaged reading some papers, “ you 
must go at once. You have a passport, get 
it examined at Havre ; the American packet 
sails to-morrow. The business is urgent ; fol- 
low me.” 

These words, spoken aloud in M. Wolff’s 
habitually brief tone, and this abrupt de- 
parture, created quite a sensation. As for 
Madame Wolff, no longer able to conceal her 
emotion, and reproaching herself as the cause 


Only a Pm, 73 

of this unexpected movement, she fell faint- 
ing and insensible upon the divan. 

I told you so,” murmured our English 
friend. 

All hastened to the skk one, and Borghese, 
always kind and prompt, assisted her to her 
room. 

“ My dear child,” said M. Wolff, when he 
and George were in the library, “ you alone 
can save us. You. speak English like a na- 
tive, and are young, active, intelligent ; go as 
quickly as possible. The house of Jackson 
in Quebec, which causes us such anxiety, is 
about to fail. Of this I have positive, confi- 
dential proof. Yet all is not lost, and, if you 
arrive in time, we have them. There is very 
little to explain to you who are acquainted 
with the affair , run over the file, here are our 
titles. This pocket-book contains the neces- 
sary funds for your voyage ; I do not restrict 
you at all, either in expenses or management 
of the affair. If you succeed, it lays the foun- 
dation of your own fortune, which you must 
not lose sight of. Ten per cent, of the liqui- 
dation, which ought to be considerable, shall 
be yours. And do not be imposed upon — they 
can pay. Here is a letter to the consul, who 
will assist you if necessary. I give you the 
power of attorney, and for all your expenses 
X am responsible. Go.” 


74 


Only a Pin. 


After a few more instructions, he embraced 
George, wishing him a safe, pleasant voyage, 
and reminding him to write immediately upon 
his arrival in New York, and before setting 
out for Quebec. 


XIV. 


THE VOYAGE. 

EORGE, having no self-re- 
proaches to make, was calm 
and full of confidence. A 
voyage to America — what a 
stroke of good fortune for 
him who understood so 
well the art of seeing ! The 
distance was certainly great, 
but how rapidly traversed ! 
And the idea of danger 
never once presented itself, so absorbed was 
he in the desire of being useful, and respond- 
ing to the great trust confided to him. 

The next morning, he embarked from 
Havre upon a magnificent steamer. The 
voyage was rapid and pleasant ; for, instead* 
of abandoning himself to that listless indo 
lence which so often doubles the length and 
tedium of a trip, George endeavored to fill 
up the moments with some profitable, agree- 
able employment or recreation. He kept a 
journal, and registered a multitude of obser- 
vations ; noticed the many changes that the 



76 


Only a Pin, 


state of the atmosphere produced upon the 
sea, now green, now sombre, then again lu- 
minous, golden, phosphorescent ; the force 
and strength of the machines which, plough- 
ing the waves, traced a line as straight, as 
sure, as that of a railroad. He conversed with 
the sailors and officers, went on deck to ad-* 
mire the beauty of a starry night or setting 
sun, and sometimes indulged in a reverie, the 
crowning figure of which was a young girl 
wearing a white flower like a star upon her 
forehead. 

Arriving at New York, he presented to 
some friends there letters of introduction 
written in Europe, and continued his journey 
to Quebec, so engrossed with the success of 
the enterprise that he scarcely paid any at- 
tention to the scenery of the country through 
which he passed. 


XV. 


DIPLOMACY. 

UITE early on the morning 
of his arrival, George, 
having already consulted 
a lawyer as to what course 
would be best, presented 
himself at the counting- 
house of Messrs. Jackson 
& Co. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he, 
in pure English, “ here 
are letters from our mutual correspondents 
in New York, under whose auspices I pre- 
sent myself. I have received from England 
large purchases, and want a draft upon Liver- 
pool or Manchester, the amount of which I 
will furnish here.” 

The partners exchanged glances. 

“ The value in cash? Certainly, sir; what 
is the amount of this draft ? ” 

“ Forty or fifty thousand dollars, per- 
haps.” 

After a consultation, they said : 

“ We can furnish fifty thousand, at eight 



78 


Only a Pin, 


days’ sight, upon the very first house in Man- 
chester, that of Davidson, which owes us 
more.” 

“ Very well, gentlemen ; would you pre- 
pare this draft to my order in several bills ? 
I will furnish myself with the funds at your 
convenience.” 

Having agreed upon the conditions of this 
negotiation, he went out, but soon returned 
with the lawyer who awaited him. 

“Gentlemen,” said he, “you have just 
declared to me that the house of Davidson 
owes you fifty thousand dollars, which sum 
stands at my disposal, against an equal 
amount deposited in your hands.” 

“ It is agreed, sir.” 

“ And you know of no opposition or im- 
pediment affecting this sum, and rendering 
null the drafts you have given me ? ” 

“What do you mean, sir? Do you sup- 
pose — ” 

“ I suppose nothing, gentlemen ; but here 
is an obstacle from the house of Wolff, Paris ; 
this instrument, which has been duly testified, 
interdicts Davidson all payment on your ac- 
count. Here, on the other hand, are the 
detailed accounts of the house of Wolff, to 
whom for a long time you have owed the 
sum of forty-nine thousand seven hundred 
and seventy-five dollars, not counting interest. 


Only a Pin, 


79 


So you perceive it would be a grave matter 
for you not to accept M. Wolff’s receipt in 
exchange for the drafts upon Davidson, as 
you have already informed me that the 
amount was in Manchester.” 

The lawyer quietly observed that this 
would be a very grave affair for Messrs. Jack- 
son & Co., inasmuch as it could be proved 
by witnesses. The drafts were prepared to 
George’s order, but the opposition from the 
house of Wolff rendered them useless to any 
except that firm, unless they chose to with- 
draw their claim ; consequently these drafts 
were fraudulent — it was a flagrant offence. 

Messrs. Jackson endeavored to discuss the 
question ; yet, comprehending their position, 
and fearing a disclosure, which would only 
hasten their ruin, soon came to terms, accept- 
ing M. Wolff’s receipt in exchange for two 
drafts payable to his order by the firm of 
Davidson, Manchester. 

George, well pleased with the success of 
this difficult negotiation, retired, and the at- 
tendant whose presence had been so useful 
accompanied him. Davidson was an old 
clerk of M. Wolff’s, who had established him- 
self in business, and it was he that gave infor- 
mation of the desperate state of affairs in 
Quebec, and the only means of righting 
them. 


8o 


Ordy a Pin. 


George immediately sent the first draft to 
M. Wolff, well assured that it would be paid 
at sight, since the funds were there, and the 
second he kept in his own possession, in case 
of emergency. Everything happened as he 
had foreseen, and George, who, notwithstand- 
ing his simplicity, was already an experienced 
diplomatist, had the hearty satisfaction of 
having overreached a deceiver. 

Some days later, the failure was an- 
nounced, and, but for his promptness and 
energy, the house of Wolff had lost heavily. 

After business, pleasure. George had to 
visit his correspondents in Montreal, Kings- 
ton, Toronto, and other cities which arise 
from this vigorous soil as if by magic. Lower 
Canada he found was a country retaining still 
the religion, manners, and customs of France ; 
even its fertile fields, glowing with the richest 
harvests, and shaded by long lines of apple- 
trees, vividly recalled the most beautiful sites 
of Normandy. The village church, with its 
pointed spire and sweet-toned bells, increased 
the illusion, and touched him deeply. Some- 
times entering these rustic temples, he 
breathed a prayer for his mother, or perhaps 
the unknown friend whose image so often 
glided before him. In one of those floating 
palaces of America, he traversed the great 
lakes, sailing over the rapids with the intre- 


Only a Pin. 


8i 


pidity of an American, who considers danger 
nothing, and time everything. 

He had read Chateaubriand, whose graceful 
pen had been employed in a description of 
these regions, which now, thanks to an impa- 
tient civilization, were no longer the same. 

Wli ere. Chateaubriand saw only huts of sav- 
ages, and half-clothed women cradling their 
offspring in h’ammocks of lilac, George looked 
upon elegant cities, accessible by railroad, and 
costly houses furnished with all the comforts 
and luxuries of European dwellings. 

At Montreal, the ladies follow the fashions 
and frivolities of Paris. In this new country, 
where the arts are in their infancy, for they 
come after all the rest, he was quite astonish- 
ed at being introduced to a picture merchant. 
But, alas ! such an exhibition ! It would 
have crazed an amateur. Lithographs in 
colors so glaring that they were painful to 
look at, and even the packages of samples 
from Europe were ill calculated to give the 
Canadians a very high idea of our artists. 

• Yet observing with interest the conscien- 
tious studies of some young painters, he could 
foresee that their art would develop itself in 
time, and spread its noble branches through- 
out this fertile country, where industry had 
already accomplished such a wonderful trans- 
formation. 


82 


Only a Pin. 


The merchant told George that several 
ladies, on returning from a visit to France, 
had introduced the painting of flowers, but 
that it was impossible to procure suitable 
models ; the best he could get were, a few old 
engravings from the Rue St. Jacques. George 
made a bargain with him Tor the purchase 
and prompt delivery of a dozen bouquets 
copied from nature, and felt not a little grati- 
fied at the hope of assisting in this manner 
some poor artiste, who, in France, would 
find less facilities for the employment of her 
talents. 

His mission terminated, he hastened to 
New York, where there was constant com- 
munication with distant countries, and, having 
still utilized his time for the best interests of 
M. Wolff, he took passage on the first steamer 
for Havre. Fifteen days later, he arrived one 
morning at the banking-house of the Chausee 
d’Antin. 


XVI. 


THE COMMISSION. 



COMPLETE success,” exclaim- 
ed M. Wolff, on perceiving 
George. ‘‘We have the mo- 
ney ; here is your well-earned 
share.” 

And handing our traveller a 
pocket-book containing not less 
than twenty-five bank-bills, M. 
Wolff embraced him cordially. 
“You are a skilful negotiator, 
and it was time ; for, eight days later, these 
funds in Davidson’s hands would have been 
involved in the failure, and could not have 
been reserved for us. Now you must take a 
little holiday, for you need rest. The duties 
that have accumulated somewhat in your ab- 
sence we have had attended to. I give you a 
little vacation of eight days.” 

“ I shall take advantage of it to visit my 
mother, then,” said George. “ I have not seen 
her for a long time.” And expressing the 
warm thanks of a grateful heart, he departed. 

Which of my penetrating, curious lady 


84 


Only a Pi7i, 


readers could tell me whither a rapid vehicle 
immediately transported our young traveller ? 
Ah ! you have guessed ! He soon found him- 
self at the Jardin des Plantes. It was the 
hour for painting lessons, and George’s coun- 
tenance fell, as, with one glance around the 
room, he saw that the only place which inter- 
ested him was empty. Concealing his disap- 
pointment, he addressed Redoute, who, fond 
of a joke, said good-humoredly: 

‘‘ Oh ! I have no doubt you come to-day 
with some commission from M. Wolff.” And 
he took George into his cabinet. 

“Well, to speak seriously,” answered the 
latter, drawing a paper from his pocket-book, 
“ here is really a commission which I received 
abroad ; it appears to me unworthy of your 
talent, sir, but perhaps would suit the capacity 
of one of your scholars ; and, I confess that, 
after thinking over and comparing in my 
mind the work you were kind enough to show 
me a short time ago, the free, bold touch of 
the person absent to-day seemed more satis- 
factory than all the rest. What is your 
opinion ? ” 

Redoute examined the note, and said : 

“You have displayed much taste and dis- 
cernment, and I add that never could a com- 
mission be entrusted to better hands than 
theirs ; you will find two sisters worthy of 


Only a Pin. 


85 


every respect and esteem ; they were recom- 
mended to me by some friends, and I should 
be very happy if anything that I could say in 
their behalf would be of service to them.” 

There remained only one question for 
George to ask, but his courage failed ; he said 
nothing. 

“ Perhaps you are anxious to ascertain 
where these ladies live? ” continued Redoute, 
with a little spice of mischief. “ I only know 
that they are from St. Germain, and their 
family name is Duval. The one you saw is 
the younger, and called, I believe, Mile. 
Jeanne. Give them this commission to exe- 
cute ; perhaps it is a good Providence that 
sends you, for they seem to be in trouble. 
I have no other recommendation to give 
you.” 

With a bow of acknowledgment, George re- 
tired. 

Next day, he very quietly took his depart- 
ure for the little province where he hoped to 
find the Mesdames Duval, who, according to 
all appearances, gave lessons in painting. 

If France is the most beautiful country in 
the world, St. Germain is perhaps the most 
beautiful spot in France. A castle which re- 
calls the noblest souvenirs of our history ; an 
elevated terrace extending beyond the sight, 
and from which the charmed eye discovers 


86 


Only a Pin. 


the beginnings of those green vineyards, de- 
scending gradually to the meadows, that 
border on the Seine ; then a great ring of 
sinuous waves covered with verdant isles ; 
further on beyond the river more meadows, 
more woods, villages scattered over an im- 
mense plain, sometimes lost in shade or glit- 
tering in sunshine ; then, at the very limits of 
this magnificent diorama, the city, the great 
city with its colossal Arc de Triomphe in clear 
weather boldly standing out against the fad- 
ing horizon — this is the picture that greets 
one’s eye. 

To the right, the increasing hillocks of 
Luciennes and Marly descend in terraces ; to 
the left, an immense forest gives the idea of 
a park reserved for the happy inhabitants of 
this privileged little village. 

Agitated by vague hopes and fancies that 
lent a pleasing tinge to all around, George 
viewed the beautiful scene with feelings of 
deepest admiration. Unhappiness, when not 
merited, is an element so pure that George 
flattered himself he would find in these sis- 
ters two beings well worthy the respect and 
esteem inspired by Jeanne’s open counte- 
nance and Redoute’s few words. 

It was not, however, without a certain in- 
explicable feeling of anxiety that he found 
himself in the church next to the castle at the 


Only a Pin, 


87 


entrance to the village, and there recom- 
mended to God the success of his pious un- 
dertaking. 

Oh ! festival days are the grand cathedrals 
of our cities, truly imposing with their mag- 
nificent ornaments, their dazzling lights, and 
harmonious anthems ; but in solitude and 
silence does the little church of St. Ger- 
main shed its holiest influences over the faith- 
ful soul who kneels before its altar ; in the dim 
twilight of repose does it invite to medita- 
tion and prayer. 

The church was almost deserted. Blessing . 
himself with holy water, George repaired to a 
chapel of the Blessed Virgin. He had been 
there but a short time thanking God’s mer- 
ciful Providence for the favors conferred 
upon him, when, on looking up, he saw two 
ladies pass and walk slowly towards the door. 
Easily overtaking them, he reached the holy- 
water font, and, dipping one finger in the 
holy-water, presented it to Jeanne, who was 
leaning upon the arm of her- sister. 

Receiving it, she looked at George with an 
air of recognition, and said : 

“ I still have it.” 

And pointed to me, poor little pin, attached 
to the black scarf. 

The other sister, not hearing this remark, 
had gone out, leaving Jeanne in what for 


88 


Only a Pin. 


many people would have been a most embar- 
rassing situation, but which her simplicity 
and uprightness rendered easy and natural. 

“ Mademoiselle,*' said George, retiring from 
the church, “ permit me to profit by this acci- 
dental meeting here, which, in this church ” — 
and he dwelt upon these last words — “ I 
begged God to grant — let me profit by it to 
make you a proposition concerning your 
paintings, and upon M. Redoute’s recom- 
mendation.” 

“Certainly, monsieur,” said Jeanne; “if 
you present yourself in this place ” — and she 
also dwelt upon these words — “ invoking the 
name of Providence, and mentioning our be- 
loved master, you are welcome.” 

The two sisters turned their faces home- 
ward, and George walked respectfully beside 
them. The elder, speaking in a low voice, 
said : 

“Do, Jeanne, explain to me the meaning 
of all this ! How did you get acquainted 
with this young man ? Where did you ever 
see him ? Sister, have you any secrets from 
me?” 

“ I will tell you all, dear sister ; have no 
fears. I am not really acquainted with him, 
and yet I’ll answer for him. Can we not rely 
upon our own judgment, and the memory of 
our good mother, who from heaven watches 


Only a Pin. ^*9 

over us as if she were still on earth? Just 
let me speak to him.” 

They passed the castle, and were soon on 
the public square. 

“You have never been in this part of the 
country before ? ” said Jeanne. 

“ Never, mademoiselle. I have many du- 
ties and little leisure ; but everything around 
me — these magnificent sites, this salubrious 
air, this beautiful forest — all appear so admi- 
rable that it seems as if one could not set 
foot upon this flowery turf without wishing 
to return and perhaps remain forever.” 

“ That is just what our friends tell us. 
But notwithstanding your duties, do you not 
sometimes devote a little time to painting ? 
And are you acquainted with M. Redoute?” 

“ Very slightly, mademoiselle. I was 
brought in contact with him by means of a 
commission for a picture which was entrusted 
to me ; and at present, having to fill an order 
for a certain number of floral pictures, and 
being much pleased with your work the day 
I had the honor of meeting you, I thought 
perhaps you would be willing to undertake 
the order.” 

“He is a picture dealer, then?” said the 
elder sister. 

“ I really do not know,” answered Jeanne, 
qsi.de ; “ but it is yery apparent that he is a 


90 Only a Fiji. 

sensible, honorable young man whom we need 
not fear.” 

Then turning to George, in hopes of learn- 
ing something more from his conversation and 
countenance ere allowing him to cross the 
threshold of their home, she said : 

I did not exactly understand your cau- 
tion when you lent me a pin ; but you owe 
me a few reproaches,” she continued, smiling, 
“ though I have really taken great care of it ; 
for to tell the truth, I had a presentiment that 
some day or other this precious deposit would 
be reclaimed, and you see I am not mis- 
taken.” 

“ Mademoiselle, although there are some 
very particular reasons attaching me to this 
pin, I can renew the loan for an indefinite 
period ; but it is of more important affairs we 
must confer to-day.” 

“ Do you know me, then ? Have our mu- 
tual friends spoken to you of us ? ” 

“ Your countenance, at least, mademoiselle, 
is familiar, and I believe that I would have 
recognized you among a thousand.” 

“ Perhaps the pin has helped you to make 
such a grand discovery,” said she, smiling. 

“ Perhaps so ; for, in presenting it to you, 
I found again in your face the picture recall- 
ing so many sad memories.” 

“ I believe, monsieur, we had better speak 


91 


Only a Pin, 

of painting. I warn you that I am hard to 
make a bargain with. But yet a word : I pray, 
monsieur, what do you mean by this image so 
like me that from my resemblance to it you 
could have singled me<out among thousands ? 
All this is very worrying, and I like very 
truthful people.” 

George silently opened his portfolio at the 
page containing his sketch of Correggio’s 
“ Sorrow,” and then said, in a low voice : 

“You see we are .already old acquaint- 
ances.” 

The two sisters were completely astonished 
at this picture, which was a faithful likeness 
of Jeanne, executed some years previous, as 
the discolored paper and half-effaced pencil- 
marks indicated. 

They resolved to act prudently, and, con- 
tinuing their course, soon reached the little 
white house situated near the square and edge 
of the vast forest. 

Luxuriant roses, climbing to the very roof 
of this little house, added grace and refine- 
ment to its modest appearance. The ground 
floor was occupied by Madame Blanchemain, 
proprietor of the dwelling, and who was for 
these two sisters a friend and protector. Their 
apartment was in the upper story. 

“ My good Madame Blanchemain,” said 
Jeanne, entering first, “ here is a gentleman 


92 


Only a Pin. 


who wishes to look at our paintings; will you 
be kind enough to receive him while we select 
the specimens, to save him the trouble of 
going up ? ” And they left the room. 

“ Do sit down, monsieur,” said Madame 
Blanchemain. This is magnificent weather, 
but a little too warm. I believe we are going 
to have a storm this afternoon, but it can’t do 
harm, it is good for the vineyards, and 
we need a good vintage this year. I my- 
self have a little enclosure towards Mareil ; 
it is getting to be superb, and the vine is 
not bad ; of course, it is not quality wine, 
but one can drink it, and, with a little water, 
it goes very well ; it is wine that bears a great 
deal of water. Monsieur, would you refresh 
yourself with a little ? ” 

George made a sign thanking her in the ne- 
gative. She continued without interruption : 

“ Ah ! yes ; you will be pleased with the 
work of these matrons, whether you want it 
for commerce or for lessons, or both. Here 
we all say matrons, but that is a habit we 
have : it should be young ladies. Ah ! yes , 
mon Dieu ! so wise and sensible, and always, 
always content — and content with what ? 
Nothing. Well, yes, poor angels ; they have 
a right to be content, for they are contented 
with themselves ; but don’t say anything, here 
they come, I’ll tell you afterwards. Do you 


Only a Pin. 


93 


want much of their work? They have a great 
deal ahead, for they are always at work. But 
business seems to be dull this season. How is 
it your way? And this little Jeanne has such 
nimble fingers, she does make the loveliest 
flowers ; but you’ll see them all, don’t say 
anything.” 

How could George say anything, since 
Madarne Blanchemain, talking incessantly, 
gave him no chance ? 

Loaded with portfolios, the two sisters 
entered and displayed their merchandise. 
Madame Blanchemain took a seat near the 
window, Jeanne was standing before a large 
table covered with her paintings, and George 
seated on the other side like a purchaser. 
Perhaps Jeanne had been a little boastful of 
her skill in making a bargain, for the scene 
presented was certainly a rare one in the 
annals of buying and selling. 

“ Anna,” said she, with a dissatisfied air, 

why did you bring down this cartoon ? 
You know I never was satisfied with it; it is 
not worth showing.” 

George, on the contrary, running over the 
portfolio with an eye of curiosity, found ever}^- 
thing charming. 

“ What freshness of tone ! ” said he. It 
seems as if I were walking in a rich garden.” 

“ These are mere daubs,” replied Jeanne. 


94 


Only a Pin. 


“ I wish to recommence this wreath of roses, 
which is not rounding enough.” 

“ Oh ! no,” said George ; it couldn’t be 
better executed.” 

“ It appears to me,” said Anna, “ that you 
two have changed places. Monsieur, being 
the purchaser, is the one to find fault, and you 
the one to praise your merchandise.” 

“ Sure enough,” replied Jeanne; “ let’s be- 
gin again.” And then, with a half-smile, said 
very seriously : “ Monsieur, here are some 
very pretty pictures, of which we have a com- 
plete assortment. Would monsieur like to 
make a selection ? ” 

Then turning towards her sister : 

“ It appears to me that’s right, isn’t it ? ” 
said she. 

“ Not bad,” replied Anna. 

George, imitating her mock-serious man- 
ner, said : 

“ Since you have nothing better to show 
me at present, I shall take this bunch of 
daisies and this sheaf of blue-bottles and 
wild poppies, if you can accommodate me in 
the price.” 

^‘Monsieur,” said Jeanne, her hand upon 
her heart, “ I could not let them go for less 
than . . 

Here, very much embarrassed, she turned 
towards Anna, who answered : 


07 ily a Pm, 95 

Go on, that’s very well ; you have the 
air of a true merchant.” 

‘‘Well,” continued Jeanne, “ I cannot pos- 
sibly let them go for less than twenty-five 
francs apiece ; fifty for two ; but you must 
pay us another visit.” 

“ How well she understands business ! ” 
said Madame Blanchemain, taking a pinch of 
snuff. “ She sells as well as she paints ! ” 

“ Twenty-five francs ! ” replied George, 
with a dissatisfied air ; “ it is impossible for 
me to give that price for such pictures ! ” 

“ Ah ! well,” said Madame Blanchemain, 
joining in the conversation, “ these things 
don’t sell well when a person himself under- 
stands much about painting! But don’t 
begrudge these poor girls their twenty-five 
francs ; they are hard earned. If you only 
knew how early they get up to work ; but 
you never will know, perhaps, and why? 
because you are soundly sleeping in your bed 
in Paris long after they are hard at work. Ah ! 
when one does not know — ” 

The two sisters had vainly endeavored to 
stop this flow of words; at length Jeanne, 
gently touching the old lady’s arm, said : 

“ My good Madame Blanchemain, let mon- 
sieur make the bargain, and give us what he 
thinks right.” 

“Mademoiselle,” said George, “it is im- 


96 


Only Cl Pin. 

possible for me to give more than fifty francs 
apiece for these bouquets, a hundred for the 
two. If I order a dozen, perhaps you can let 
me have them at this price ? ” 

“ But, monsieur, you have made a mis- 
take,” said Jeanne, after a moment’s reflec- 
tion ; “ you have offered me double what I 
asked.” 

“ It is the price fixed by the person who 
orders them, and I cannot change it. This 
may lead to other orders, and I engage you 
to accept them.” 

“ That’s the right way to manage busi- 
ness ! ” said Madame Blanchemain, taking up 
the thread of conversation again. “ After 
that, I must make friends with monsieur, for 
he bothered me enough pretending he want- 
ed your pictures so cheap ; but now I see he 
is a connoisseur, and was only joking. You 
have not offered too much ; pictures like these 
are worth fifty francs at least. If monsieur 
would like a little refreshment — you see. 
Monsieur — Monsieur — ” 

And she endeavored to recall his name, but, 
for a very good reason, was not successful, so 
continued : 

“ These young girls would give all for no- 
thing — so disinterested! For the present, it 
is a closed bargain ; but I must tell you they 
do not know how to defend their rights, and. 


Only a Pir 97 

if they hadn’t honest people like you to deal 
with, they would give all for nothing.’* 

“ Monsieur,” said Anna, whose position in 
this household was somewhat that of a mo- 
ther, we, of course, understand you serious- 
ly, since you present yourself 'with the recom- 
mendation of our revered master ; but we 
have not the honor of knowing you.” 

“ Mademoiselle,” answered George, fore- 
seeing the question, “ here is the order of my 
correspondent. I hope it will be followed by 
others. You see, the price fixed does not 
allow me to pay less than what I have offer- 
ed. If you wish it very much, I will pay 
madame now the amount of the two subjects 
at my disposal.” 

And he counted out five gold pieces into 
the hand of Madame Blanchemain, who re- 
ceived them with great pleasure. Perhaps it 
had been embarrassing to have put them in 
Jeanne’s hands. 

Give, give,” said Madame Blanchemain ; 
‘‘ this will supply some of the household 
wants, will it not, young ladies ? Good pay 
makes good friends. Ah — ” 

Here George interrupted her, having dis- 
covered there was no other way of getting a 
chance to speak. 

“ As to the other ten subjects, I leave the 
selection entirely to yourselves, only let them 


98 


Only a Pm. 

equal these in point of execution, and all 
copied from nature. Here, madame, is my 
address, and that of the banking-house which 
is to pay for these ten pieces, so impatiently 
expected.” 

He handed Madame Blanchemain a slip of 
paper. 

“ But,” said Jeanne, looking at her sister, 
“ it will take -us a very long time to paint ten 
bouquets, for we must first procure flowers 
and select the prettiest. I don’t think I can 
do more than one a week. Perhaps monsieur 
would like to see my work occasionally, for I 
might make some mistakes that a few season- 
able hints would rectify.” 

Anna said nothing — there was a silence. 

With your permission,” returned George, 
“ I shall sometimes visit this beautiful region, 
and see how you are getting along.” 

“ Monsieur George,” said Jeanne, “ there is 
still something that I would like to ask you ; 
it concerns myself.” 

George bowed assent. 

“ If not too impertinent a question, I wish 
you would tell me how you came by that 
sketch, enough like me to be mistaken for my 
portrait, except that I am not always so sad- 
looking.” 

“ But sit down, then,” said Madame 
Blanchemain, “ and recount this little history 


Only a Pin. 


99 


Perhaps Jeanne is like a certain peasant wo- 
man of Fourqueux, don’t you remember, 
ladies? Well, monsieur, we were outwalk- 
ing, and these ladies must be occupied, so- 
we installed ourselves under the apple-trees. 
Mademoiselle Anna drew forth her album, 
and began to sketch a ruined mansion cov- 
ered with columbine, ivy, and all such things. 
Suddenly a fury rushes out, I don’t know 
how, and speaks to us about being there, and 
afterwards, under the pretext that we were 
English, she even wanted to fine us for having 
sketched her house. How we laughed ! Isn’t 
it so, Anna? Since then, Jeanne, perhaps, 
doesn’t want her likeness taken without per- 
mission — ” 

George at this stage thought it not im- 
proper to interrupt her again, and, with the 
confidence and simplicity of youth, related in 
a few words the history of his life, briefly 
referring to the circumstances under which he 
had been brought in contact with the picture 
at Munich. Jeanne appeared pensive, Anna 
seemed worried about her sister; Madame 
Blanchemain alone kept up the conversa- 
tion. 

George, noticing the reserve of the two 
young ladies, understood that it was time to 
withdraw. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said he, offering his hand 


lOO 


Only a Pin, 

to Anna, who timidly extended hers, we 
have made a bargain.” 

Ah 1 dear me ! ” said Madame Blanche- 
main, “ I don’t give my blanche main — white 
hand — (it was one of her jokes), but I em- 
brace you, for it certainly was the good 
God who sent you here, and indeed it was 
time ! ” 

George took Madame Blanchemain at her 
word, and bravely complied with this unex- 
pected request. As he retired, his last look 
encountered Jeanne’s calm, steadfast gaze, 
reflecting the emotions of his own heart. 

He was in no haste to leave St. Germain, 
for the day was beautiful, and he wished to 
linger awhile in the forest, collecting his 
thoughts, and pondering upon the morning’s 
adventures. 

Everything appeared to him wise, interest- 
ing, suitable ; and even the naive familiarity 
of good Madame Blanchemain lost its ludi- 
crous aspect when he reflected that, to these 
poor orphans, she supplied the place of friend, 
confidante, preceptress, family. He under- 
stood, too, that Jeanne had placed herself un- 
der God’s protection before touching his hand 
under the church porch, when he offered her 
the holy water. 

He remembered her prudent interrogations 
upon the road, ere giving him access to their 


Only a Pin, loi 

house, and also divined the sister’s apprehen- 
sions. 

Their reserve in not introducing him to 
their own apartment on his first visit, but in 
placing themselves under Madame Blanche- 
main’s protection, he also approvingly re- 
membered ; in fact, nothing escaped him, not 
even the good lady’s indiscreet revelations 
that they were suffering, and help had not 
come too soon. 

And indeed, if pleased with the excellent 
pictures displayed, he was still more so with 
Jeanne’s simplicity of manner, and the eld- 
er sister’s motherly tenderness towards her. 
He had spent a very pleasant day, and after 
a stroll in these sombre woods, reposing upon 
the tufted, odorous herbs, inhaling the intoxi- 
cating perfume distilled from the sap of vigor- 
ous oaks, he returned to Paris, his lingering 
glances still seeking the fading horizon. 

Jeanne, Anna, Madame Blanchemain, re- 
mained seated in the little room. 

“Ah, Jeanne!” said Anna; “what have 
you done ? What did we promise our poor 
mother ? That no stranger should enter our 
house without an introduction or recommen- 
dation from some of the friends she left us. 
And you have asked him to return — I heard 
you ! ” 

“ Don’t fear, my good sister,” replied 


102 


Only a Pin. 


Jeanne; “you see that I know exactly how 
to make him talk ; we are acquainted with 
him now ; and, besides, I had seen him be- 
fore.’' 

“You had? You never told me!” said 
Anna a little anxiously. 

Jeanne, with a slight blush, told in as in- 
different a manner as possible. the historyof 
the pin which she had promised to keep. 

“ My children,” said Madame Blanche- 
main, “ it is right to be very prudent, but you 
have nothing to reproach yourselves with, in 
any way at all. But if you wish to sell your 
paintings, if you have spent all your money 
in Paris learning this art, you can’t shut your 
door against purchasers ; my little Anna, you 
must be reasonable. Am I not here to pro- 
tect you, since you are such babies ? Then, 
another thing, my dear children, you always 
seem to forget that you need money. You 
never complain, you are always content ; but 
I know how you live — go, I Imow it all very 
well.” 

And with the back of her fat hand, she 
wiped away the tears from one eye, which 
always wept more easily than the other. 

“ Ah ! well, here is the money you have so 
nobly earned,” continued she, rattling the five 
gold pieces in her hand. “ Here, Mademoi- 
selle Housekeeper, take me, and do not be too 


Only a Pm. 


103 


miserly with me, for I come from the hand of 
Providence, and he will return me fivefold. 
Now embrace me, and take all these paintings 
up-stairs, for I am going to set my little table, 
and might spoil them.” 

The two young girls thanked her for her 
kindness, and, embracing her tenderly, ascend- 
ed* to their own apartment, pleased and 
encouraged with this first sale of their pic- 
tures. 


XVII. 


A MOTHER. 

EORGE did not tarry long 
at Paris, but took advan- 
tage of his few days’ holi- 
day to visit his good mother, 
from whom he had been 
separated some years. 

She lived in a little vil- 
lage in Normandy, spend- 
ing, in recollection and 
prayer, the last days of an 
eventful, trying life. 

Having, by her energy alone, provided for 
the establishment of her numerous family, she 
now began to feel the need of quiet and re- 
pose ; her daughters, married and settled in 
the neighboring villages, often came to relieve 
the monotony of her solitude, and an unex- 
pected inheritance had supplied her old age 
with that comfort and ease which were want- 
ing to her youth. 

George found her alone ; he had left home 
when very young, and his visits there were 



Only a Phi. 105 

only at rare intervals. Necessity, that wise 
counsellor, having gifted him with uncommon 
precocity, it was no longer a boy, a youth, but 
a man, who now re-entered the maternal roof. 
The old servant who had attended his child- 
hood was still there, delighted to announce 
his return. 

The house was cheerful and well situated ; 
everything about it bespoke order, manage- 
ment, simplicity. His mother was kneeling 
before her crucifix ; he assisted her to rise, for 
she was old and feeble ; yet, notwithstanding 
this advanced age, her features still retained 
that dignity and majesty of expression which 
betoken a pure soul. She received him with 
all the cordiality and tenderness of a mother’s 
heart. 

“ I have often thought of you, dear son, 
and thanked God for having, after .a life of 
struggles and trials, blessed my old age with 
so many consolations. Left alone at an 
age when guidance is most needed, you 
have nobly avoided the slippery paths so 
seducing to many others ; .religion and filial 
piety have conducted your steps in the right 
way. How often have I regretted not being 
able to pass my declining years with you ! But 
I am now too old to make any changes ; my 
lot is to remain here, surrounded by the affec- 
tionate attention of your sisters. Your letters 


io6 Only a Pin. 

have added much to the happiness of my life, 
and even M. Wolff has written, assuring me 
of the confidence and esteem he feels for you. 
May God bless you, my child, for having been 
such a comfort to your mother! ” 

Dear mother,” replied George, “ it is a 
cruel law of nature, that which scatters fami- 
lies. It is near you that I ought and would 
like to stay, striving by my affection and de- 
votion to make some very slight return for all 
the cares, the trials, the sufferings, and sacri- 
fices of your past life. Do you remember the 
great table around which all the family, big 
and little, were seated? How respectfully 
and lovingly we listened to your gentle words 
of instruction 1 But we are scattered, some 
already in another world, others settled at a 
distance ; and to-day, dear mother, we, of all 
those once gathered around the family table — 
we are the only two, and, when I depart, you 
will be alone with your memories.” 

Dear child, the reminiscences of a well- 
spent life are not painful, as you will one day 
know. I am like, the wearied traveller, who, 
reposing at the end of his journey, looks back 
upon the dangers of the road, ere entering 
into the city of refuge. But to-day I must 
think only of the happiness of seeing and con- 
versing with you. How many things have you 
not to tell me — the many little incidents of 


Only a Pin, 107 

your life since we were last together, your 
voyage, your plans for the future ! ” 

Thus the hours flew by, in sweet interchange 
of thought, between this pious mother calmly 
awaiting her summons to a better world, and 
this devoted son, courageously following her 
footsteps. She leaned upon his arm, she took 
walks with him a short distance from the 
house ; she was proud indeed of his mind, his 
upright character, his education. 

One day, when he appeared very thought- 
ful (a mother can generally fathom a son’s 
heart), she said to him : 

“ George, my son, you told me all the past, 
but not one word of your future. You work 
hard ; you are not worldly ; your position is 
honorable : you have even some means, thanks 
to the liberality of Monsieur Wolff, who, I 
know, is anxious to keep you with him. Now, 
some day you must have a good, faithful wife, 
whose piety shall draw down- the blessing of 
Heaven upon your house ; modest and simple, 
finding her happiness in you alone, not seek- 
ing it elsewhere ; courageous, too, for we 
must always be prepared for the trials of life ; 
not beautiful, but just sufficiently agreeable 
to compare favorably with others ; not very 
learned, but possessed of taste and refine- 
ment ; not even rich, for riches might spoil 
her ; but with some one talent that might be 


io8 Ojily a Pin. 

a recreation in prosperity, and resource in ad- 
versity.” 

“ My dear mother,” replied George, with 
considerable emotion, every word you have 
just uttered sounds like an echo of my own 
heart. Why is it that the wife you have pic- 
tured for me corresponds exactly with the 
image of my own imagination ? Is it because 
I have tried to walk in your footsteps, have 
been nourished upon your holy words, have 
learned from you to love the good, the beau- 
tiful, the true ? I value riches as far as they 
are subservient to the comforts and happiness 
of life ; but I believe it my duty to seek such 
fleeting goods in honest, manly toil, and not 
in the woman whose stay and guardian angel 
I should be. You have read my soul as clear- 
ly as, when a child, you understood my most 
secret thoughts, and knew so well what to 
say. You have indeed spoken truly. To-day 
your life is peaceful and quiet ; you no longer 
need my help. My very nature urges me to 
devote myself to the care and welfare of 
others in some measure dependent on me. 
I often ask. Of what use are my toils, if no 
other being expects to reap the benefit of 
them, or even my life, if living for and de- 
voted only to self ? ” 

“ Dear son, when one takes pleasure in such 
reflections, which are often dangerous, he is 


07 ily a Pin. 


109 


not far from finding her whom Providence 
has reserved for him, and perhaps he has 
even met her.” 

“ Am I indeed your little child, good mo- 
ther, that you have read in my countenance 
the secret which shall be entrusted to no other 
ears than your own ? ” 

“ George,” replied his mother, after listen- 
ing attentively to an account of his acci- 
dental meeting with Jeanne and his trip to St. 
Germain, my son, in many things you have 
the reason and experience of a man • but 
your good heart, your spirit of sacrifice and 
devotion, so easily worked upon in one of 
your nature, might lead you into some de- 
plorable, irreparable mistakes. From what 
you tell me of these two young persons, they 
are certainly interesting and honorable. They 
were recommended to you by some one in- 
directly acquainted with them ; but you really 
know nothing about them, either their faniily, 
their relations, or the cause of their sufferings. 
Be assured, dear child, I am not opposing you 
in this grave matter ; before leaving here, you 
have my consent and benediction, both for 
yourself and the woman of your choice — for 
her whose image was engraven in your heart 
even before you had ever seen her. I wish 
only to guard you against the fatal mirage of 
imagination. One request I make of you : 


no 


Only a Pin. 


be somewhat reserved and watchful over 
yourself for a little while, guard your secret 
well, make no promises, observe much, be 
useful to her whom you hope to make your 
own, but, in doing so, be very prudent and 
dignified ; then, at the end of a year, if your 
feelings are the same, ask her to be your wife, 
and I will say no more : you will have com- 
plied with all my wishes. Here, dear son, is 
the expression of your mother’s approbation ; 
it was all prepared, for I did not wish either 
accident or sickness to interfere with your 
plans for the future.” 

And from a secretary she drew forth an en- 
velope containing a signed paper, and also 
some bank-bills to the amount of a thousand 
francs. 

“ They are yours, dear child, really your 
own, the savings that from time to time you 
sent me when we were in such straitened cir- 
cumstances. Fortune, smiling once more, has 
permitted me to return them.” 

Oh ! spare me,” cried George ; “ it was a 
pleasure for me to consecrate to you my first 
earnings — feeble compensation for all the 
means and care bestowed on us, dear mo- 
ther ; do not deprive me of that sweet me- 
mory.” 

‘‘ Well, then,” said his mother, “ I will keep 
this pious memento for your dear Jeanne 


Only a Pin, 


1 1 1 


when she goes to housekeeping. You shall 
be her treasurer. Now, remember what I 
have said, I give you no other marriage por- 
tion than a mother’s advice. Moreover, I 
wish to tell you that, if circumstances require 
it, poverty or misfortune, you can marry her 
to-morrow, and your wife will always meet 
with the welcome I would give my own 
child.” 

George promised his mother to abide by 
her prudent counsels. He remained several 
days longer, enjoying the society of his sis- 
ters, who came to join him; then, bidding 
them all an affectionate farewell, he returned 
to Paris, elated with hope. 


XVIIL 


ALREADY ! 

HE eight days’ holiday had 
not yet expired. George 
had employed it in satisfy- 
ing the dearest longings of 
his heart. He had found an 
aim in life, and not one day 
had he wished to conceal 
this new thought from the 
heart of his mother. Would 
he now return to his bene- 
factor, and resume with ardor, before the ap- 
pointed time, a work which would henceforth 
have a new stimulus ? It is more than pro- 
bable. 

But then, why do we meet him next morn- 
ing wandering at random towards the forest 
of St. Germain, along the outskirts of those 
beautiful trees and hawthorns, whence one 
perceives the little white house with its luxu- 
riant vines and its roses in full bloom scat- 
tering their petals on the very roof? Why? 
Does he himself know ? 

As the atom of gold silently, surely affili- 



Only a Pin, 


113 

ates itself to the vein of metal ; as the dew- 
drop, by an inevitable descent, joins the 
limpid stream : as the magnet, by an un- 
changeable will, turns towards the pole, so the 
heart seeks friendship. The strong, in the 
sight of God, seeks the weak ; the pure man 
seeks the true ; and even the wicked, alas ! re- 
cognizes by unmistakable signs his counter- 
part, his companion. Like attracts like ; and 
man, who believes himself acting purely from 
the dictates of his own will, is insensibly but 
surely conducted towards good, if he heed 
the voice of conscience and duty ; towards 
evil, if he listens to egotism and passion. 

This explains why George, whose heart 
was the purest gold, found himself here in 
this most beautiful spot of earth, reposing in 
his strength beneath the protecting shade of 
its mighty trees, inhaling the fresh morning 
air, and casting wistful glances towards the 
little white house. 

“ Work and pray, poor children,” said he — 
work and pray, whilst I keep guard over 
you ; God and my mother have sanctioned it.” 

This wise fellow believed that only a sight 
of the white house would be gratification 
enough ; that, having feasted his eyes upon 
it, he would courageously return, taking with 
him, as a memento of his visit, a single wild 
rose bending in that direction, and reminding 


1 14 Only a Pin, 

him of the one Jeanne wore in her hair the 
first time he saw her. 

But how is it we find him seated in the 
lower room with Madame Blanchemain, she 
feeding her canaries, and both gravely dis- 
cussing the important subject as to what 
would be the most healthy, nourishing food 
for these birds? 

Ah ! George ! you have played truant, and 
can scarcely tell how you did get here. 

Returning from the forest through the 
square, so as to be a little nearer the white 
house, you saw the door open and madame 
standing in it ; you attempted to pass on, 
merely bowing in sign of recognition ; she 
called you back, and made you a not unwilling 
prisoner. 

Why, Monsieur George, are you in this 
neighborhood ? The ladies above often speak 
of you. They are at church now. They 
are not a bit too devout ; it is a very good 
thing for young people ; and, after all, these 
folks who talk so much about not having time 
for daily devotions don’t get through any 
more work than others who rise early and go 
to Mass, nor as much. I went at six this 
morning, and my household affairs have been 
in order for some time, all but feeding these 
poor birds, that are impatient for their break- 
fast. Ah ! what little gluttons ! They are 


Only a Pin, 


115 

always well satisfied at this season, because 
they can have plantain, which makes them 
sing like seraphim.] Sing away, poor little 
things! You shall never want for anything 
whilst I live. Ah ! M. George, you see what 
people become when they get old and have 
no children ; they attach themselves to the 
poor animals under their charge. Yes ; I 
have even more to love : these are my little 
neighbors, just like my own children ; they 
brighten up the house very much, and with* 
out them it would be somewhat gloomy, 
though I always try to be occupied, as you 
see. But won’t you take something to eat ? 
You have not breakfasted. Now, listen to 
me — we will breakfast together. You have 
been so kind to us, you might favor us with 
this mark of friendship.” 

(George, seeing no chance to speak, made a 
sign in the affirmative.) 

‘‘ I say us, for what you have done for them 
is the same as if it had been done for me. 
You have really discovered the niost noble 
manner of obliging them — giving them work ; 
for it is not easy to find work. Their 
friends say they ought to go to Paris, where 
they could always command it ; but they do 
not want to leave their native place ; they 
would rather stay here under the protection 
of some old friends. 


1 1 6 Only a Pin. 

And still talking, she continued to set the 
table. 

“We are going to have fresh eggs and good 
coffee. I take great pains with my coffee, 
for it is the only thing she is fond of, this 
little J-eanne. When she has worked hard 
all day, and comes down here in the evening, 
I give her a nice cup of it ; then, tired out, 
she throws herself back in the arm-chair, 
and sleeps whilst her sister sews. But for 
myself, if I were to drink a cup of coffee in 
the evening, I couldn’t shut my eyes — but 
youth ! And as we look at her, sleeping so 
calmly, her sister and I cannot help admir- 
ing (we do it in an undertone) her frank, open 
nature ; for we watch over her like a child. 
She’s not such a child, either: she is the man 
of the house for courage and resolution ; her 
sister Anna, who could carry her like a fea- 
ther, is a great deal more timid, and would 
do nothing without consulting her.” 

The little table was set with extreme care, 
and George assigned a place opposite the 
window. The sun now flooded the square 
with light, and through the interstices of the 
foliage one perceived the distant horizon and 
the blue mountains. 

George, though reared in refinement, never 
disdained the society of plain, simple people 
when he found them honest and obliging, for 


Only a Pin, 


117 

he valued good principles and qualities of 
heart far beyond those artificial qualifications 
which regulate worldly intercourse. With 
unfeigned gratitude, he enjoyed this impro- 
vised hospitality and the beautiful spectacle 
presented to him through the half-opened 
window, which was bordered with roses bend- 
ing their curious heads even into the room. 
Perhaps, too, he wished to begin his new role 
of observer, and hoped to draw from so facile 
a source some information about the past life 
of his proteges. 

How do you find these eggs ? I hope 
they are cooked to suit you ; they are Cochin 
Chinas ; they lay all the year round. I am 
going to show you my poultry-yard at the foot 
of the little garden.” 

When the boasted coffee was served with a 
jug of excellent cream, George led the con- 
versation upon a more interesting subject, the 
two ladies. 

You were acquainted with their mother, 
were you not ? ” said he. 

“ Oh ! yes ; I knew her well,” replied Ma- 
dame Blanchemain, '‘and that is why they 
like to live here. I was her dearest friend, 
and we often speak of her. Madame Duval 
was left a widow with two children. She had 
a sufficient surn from her husband’s business 
and her own work to educate and raise these 


ii8 Only a Pin. 

children ; but this sum she imprudently en 
trusted to doubtful hands. It gave her a 
great deal of trouble and anxiety, not for her- 
self, but for her daughters. Then sickness 
came, then weakness, and at last sorrow. ‘ 
But you see I cannot tell the whole of this 
sad story. Jeanne was sixteen years old, 
Anna nineteen, when she died and left them 
to me, but did not tell me anything about her 
business affairs. The poor children were in a 
sad state indeed — no means, nothing to do, 
everything failed at once. Perhaps you have 
noticed that white lock in Jeanne’s black 
hair — it turned so in a single night. I walked 
and walked through the grand avenues of the 
forest with these two pale, care-worn figures, 
for I hoped that being tired out in body 
would calm their minds — not a word could I 
get out of them. 

“ At last religion, love of occupation, the 
desire of doing what would please their mo- 
ther if she were living, gave them a little 
courage and life. I have entire faith in 
Providence, and had been always expecting 
aid for them from some quarter, when the 
good God sent you ; for as sure as this egg is 
a real Cochin China, you are an honest, worthy 
young man, M. George. I am very good 
at reading faces, and I answer for you. I re- 
ceive you with all my heart, just as their own 


Only a Pin. 


119 

mother would do if still here to watch over 
them ; she gave me charge over them — but 
here, they have got back. Won’t you step 
up and look at the beautiful pictures ? I 
have seen them carrying up magnificent 
flowers — they must work very hard. Mind, 
above all, don’t breathe one word of what 
I have told you ; for their sorrow is so sacred 
that they don’t allow everybody to speak 
of it ; and then, they have a good deal 
of pride. Don’t be very long, and come back 
to see me ; meanwhile, I will clear off the table, 
and put things in order, for I cannot bear 
slovenliness. Each one to his little whims.” 

Thanking her, George timidly ascended the 
steps leading to the little apartment above. 
Knocking gently, he opened the door, and 
found himself in a room hung round with 
pictures. Jeanne was seated before a table 
loaded with flowers. 

She arose, looking very pale, and leaning 
against the back of a chair. 

Already ! ” she exclaimed, in an altered 
voice. 

Mademoiselle,” replied George, “ this is a 
very simple word on your part, and perhaps 
not uncalled for. The painful impression it 
has produced on me must not interfere with 
your work. This one word has reminded me 
of my duty. I believe it allowable for me to 


120 


Only a Pin. 


come and see your work, but then, I ought 
to have awaited your orders, or at least re- 
quested permission. Will you pardon me ? " 
And making quite a dignified bow, he with- 
drew. 


XIX. 


INTERPRETATION. 

soon as he was gone, Jeanne 
threw herself back in the chair, 
and began to reflect upon this 
unexpected apparition. She had 
feared the appearance of impro- 
priety in receiving this young 
man alone in her room (for 
Anna was still absent), but now 
she perceived that her word of 
reproach seemed even more for- 
ward ; for, if perfectly indifferent to George, 
what more natural than to let him look at her 
sketch, to consult his taste in the matter, and 
conduct herself with becoming politeness ? 
But to dismiss him at once, was it not, on the 
contrary, betraying much that a young girl 
ought to have hidden in the innermost re- 
cesses of her heart ? Was it not saying very 
plainly, “You are more to me than a mere 
amateur. I know you came to see me, not the 
flowers ; I expected you, but ought to have 
concealed it ; you have come already ! It ex- 
pressed a great deal.” Such were poor 



122 Only a Pin, 

Jeanne’s mortifying reflections, and the effect 
was so apparent in her changed countenance 
and manner that Anna, on her return, imme- 
diately noticed something amiss, and had 
great difficulty in discovering the cause. That 
evening, Jeanne went to bed with a slight 
fever. 

George, on his part, had also been a little 
touched at this cold reception. He hurriedly 
took leave of Madame Blanchemain, who said 
to him laughingly, No one can complain of 
your visits being too long! ” 

He turned into the shady forest paths so 
favorable to reverie, and continued his walk 
as far as the black Virgin, a venerated image 
placed at one of the cross-roads. Here he 
stopped, as if adjuring the purest of Virgins 
to witness the honor of his intentions, and 
then a glimmering of the truth began to 
dawn upon him. 

If I had been nothing more to her than 
a mere amateur, she would have received me 
just as she does anybody else ; she was con- 
fused at seeing me. Yes ; and her pallor ex- 
pressed a great deal ; perhaps she thought of 
me in connection with the little pin which 
seems already to be a bond between us.” 

Finally, after pondering the subject longer, 
he came to the conclusion that he had every 
reason to be pleased and even happy at his 


Only a Pin, 


123 

abrupt dismissal. Besides, he was the offended 
party, and consequently all the advantage 
was on his side. 

He recalled with unfeigned admiration the 
attitude of the young girl leaning against the 
back of her chair, her natural, graceful figure, 
the profusion of flowers beside her, and, 
braced with flattering hopes, he returned to 
Paris, eager to resume his active life. 


XX. 


A FRIEND. 

)W let US take a peep at 
the house of M. Wolff, 
which we quitted so sud- 
denly to follow George in 
his adventures. 

Madame Wolff was wor- 
ried and alarmed beyond 
expression at her own 
thoughtless conduct and 
George’s supposed audaci- 
ty ; her husband’s serious air, George’s preci- 
pitate departure, all tortured her with a 
thousand fears, which, added to the remorse 
of an awakened conscience, seriously affected 
her health. Sick and dejected, she remained 
in her chamber, resting upon a divan, whilst 
the faithful Borgh^se, fearing some inoppor- 
tune confession, constantly hovered round, 
and guarded her with tender care. 

One day after George’s return, when Bor- 
gh^se thought that her pretty friend’s levity 
had been sufficiently punished, she said : 

“ Louise, you conceal your troubles from 



Only a Pin. 


125 


me ; there is something weighing upon your 
mind that has made you sick. Can't you get 
accustomed to Lady Wilson’s little pin- 
thrusts ? Tell me what really is the matter.” 

“ Dear Borgh^se,” answered Madame 
Wolff, “ Lady Wilson has nothing to do with 
it ; she is not the cause of my indignation ; 
it is — but you could never guess. You are in 
my confidence ; you have given me so many 
proofs of true friendship that I want you to 
hear my story, and help with your advice. 
For, to tell the truth, it is to you, and you 
only, so good, so indulgent, that I would dare 
reveal my secret. You recollect that ridicu- 
lous wager?” 

What ! ” replied Borgh^se, with an aston- 
ished air. 

‘‘ Yes ; that foolish pin, in which everybody 
about the house seemed interested. And 
even you — did you not defy me like the 
others ? ” 

“Yes; and where was the great harm 
done? I recollect now that ^ you lost your 
bet, and loyally paid Lady Wilson the louis 
at stake. Do you repent of it ? Lady Wil- 
son, in spite of her frivolities, is charitable, 
and some poor family has been the better of 
your loss — indeed, I know so.” 

“ That’s not the subject of my regret ; but 
since you are completely in the dark, Bor- 


126 


Only a Pin, 

gh^se, I shall have to tell the whole story. I 
really gained the wager, and here is that 
hateful pin, which I could almost say was be- 
witched, for, ever since that detestable wager, 
it has been nothing but a perfect torment to 
me.” 

“ And why did you pay the money, Louise, 
after winning it ? Why were you so gene- 
rous ? ” 

‘‘ Because I didn’t want any one except 
yourself to know that I gained it ; you are 
so good, so indulgent, Borghese ; you know 
me ; and also because I want to put you on 
your guard against that George whom you 
consider a saint. He is an impudent, auda- 
cious fellow. Oh ! I blush to recount the 
whole affair ! ” 

“ Good heavens ! what is it, and what has 
this poor young man done ? ” said Borghese, 
in great astonishment. 

Oh ! yes ; this poor young man, this inno- 
cent ! Whilst I was half-asleep, listening to 
his talk in the winter garden, he took advan- 
tage of the opportunity to kiss me.” 

“ That was pleasant, indeed ! ” replied Bor- 
gh^se, “ very pleasant ! Such a novice to kiss 
a lady so publicly ! ” 

“You can laugh, Borghese, and then you 
will be just like everybody else. I thought 
you better and more charitable. Do you 


Only a Pin. 


127 


think, if I had dreamed of exposing myself to 
such insolence, I would have bargained with 
him for this pretty relic ? But that’s not all ; 
it was innocent enough, to be sure, but things 
of this sort are liable to an evil interpretation. 
Have you remarked M. Wolff’s abrupt, serious 
manner ? And how can you explain George’s 
precipitate departure ? Am I acting a given 
part in a drama at school ? Am I a faithless 
wife, that this impertinent man should kiss 
me, and he be punished by exile ? All this 
is perfectly ridiculous, worse than ridiculous. 
Dear Broghese, you can answer for me ; you 
know my esteem, my attachment for Mon- 
sieur Wolff — you know my whole life. You 
must come with me ; together we can recount 
the pitiable story, and let him know that it 
was altogether from impulse, and without 
dreaming of the impropriety, that the good, 
honorable George kissed his protector’s wife.” 

“ But, indeed,” said Borghese, “ it is strange 
that he ventured to kiss you without the 
slightest provocation. I have been in his so- 
ciety nearly a dozen times ; we often practise 
our music together, and, like every one else, 
I have always found him very respectful, al- 
most timid. You have surely in some man- 
ner brought this upon yourself! What was 
it you did ? ” 

“ Almost nothing. I was piqued at the 


128 


Only a Pin, 

wager ; you know I love to succeed in my 
enterprises, and why I can’t really tell, but 
I was very desirous to have this pin, and 
then—” 

“ And then what ? ” said Borghese. 

And then I broke off a pomegranate 
flower, offering it to him for his pin ; for, by 
an inexplicable infatuation, my desire to pos- 
sess that pin increased in proportion .to his 
resistance.” 

What then ? ” 

‘‘ Then I placed the flower in my sash, and 
whilst I was half-asleep — ” 

Asleep, Louise ? And do you believe 
there was no impropriety in such behavior ? 
You see now the consequences of it.” 

I see only too well but it is not a moral 
I now beg of you, Borghese : it is some means 
of extricating myself from this foolish po- 
sition.” 

“ The means ! the means ! I will help you, 
indeed, but on two conditions, and the first 
has already appeared intolerable to you.” 

“ What are the two conditions ? ” 

“ My dear Louise, first, that you listen to 
a sermon under three heads.” 

Madame Wolff languidly stretched herself 
upon the divan, with a disconsolate air, whilst 
Borghese drew up an arm-chair, and, in quite 
a magisterial manner, began : 


O^ily a Fin. 


129 


“ My dear child, you are young, you are 
gentle ; you love your husband, who is the 
most devoted and generous of men ; you have 
abundance of leisure ; you can create for your- 
self useful and delightful occupations ; your 
position is a most enviable one, for you have 
the rare privilege of bountifully dispensing 
means upon the indigent. Now, just think 
how you employ your time. In trifles, in 
listening to silly talk, in encouraging scandal, 
in planning venturesome undertakings, such 
as the one you have just recounted, in excit- 
ing by your coquetry the attentions of an 
honorable young man completely absorbed 
in his duties. Have you fully understood the 
impropriety, the danger, of all this ? ” 

“ Ah ! dear Borgh^se, you know well that 
I have, since I call you to my assistance.” 

“ And now, another condition. If I with- 
draw you from this peril, will you pardon me 
all the- means which I thought it my duty to 
employ — I who boasted to you that I would 
protect George under my wings ? And will 
you promise, also, to conduct yourself here- 
after towards this young man like a wise, 
prudent mother ? ” 

“You know well that I will promise every- 
thing you wish. But do explain, you pro- 
voking Borgh^se.” 

“ Well, then, know that I watched over you 


130 


Only a Phi. 


whilst you slept, for it is dangerous to sleep 
under myrtles in bloom. To-day I return 
you the kiss I took, and the flower that has 
caused so many reproaches.” She threw 
down a withered pomegranate blossom. “ It 
was I, your Borghese, who had the audacity 
to give the kiss of which you bitterly com- 
plain. Poor George is innocent ; dreading 
your enchantments, he turned his back upon 
them. As to the pin that has received such 
homage, let me beg of you not to believe it 
bewitched.” 

Oh ! I am furious,” said Madame Wolff, 
in reality very happy at this unexpected ex- 
planation ; ‘‘ but why did you leave me so 
long a prey to suffering and a thousand con- 
jectures as to George’s departure?” 

To punish you, and revenge him,” an- 
swered Borghese seriously. 

The two friends embraced, and promised 
secrecy. 

That evening, universal brightness and 
good-humor pervaded the drawing-room. 
Madame Wolff was cured ; leaning upon her 
husband’s arm, she received George with truly 
maternal friendship, and M. Wolff himself, 
whilst offering his congratulations, expressed 
the intention of forwarding the young hero’s 
interests. They made him relate the parti- 
culars of his voyage, and on all sides he re- 


ceived marks of esteem and honor. Thus, 
thanks ta the foresight and kindly intervention 
of a true friend, peace and happiness re-enter- 
ed this dwelling. 


XXI. 


A TURN IN THE ROAD. 

ORGE set to work with re- 
doubled energy, both be- 
cause of his consciousness 
that gratitude to M. Wolff 
demanded his utmost exer^* 
tions, and also because of 
his now having well-dehned 
plans for the future. Re- 
flection only confirmed the 
high opinion he had al- 
ready formed of his protegees; and the ab- 
rupt dismissal, far from blighting his hopes, 
but strengthened them the more. 

So, with renewed ardor, he again entered 
upon his duties in the incessantly active, 
prosperous establishment of M. Wolff. His 
nights, often sleepless and busy, were no 
longer tedious, for he said to himself whilst 
working : 

“ I know now who will profit by my vigils.” 

Some days had passed since his last visit 
to St. Germain, when one morning he received 
a letter bearing the postmark of that place, 
and written in a tremulous, unfamiliar hand. 



Only a Pin, 


133 


Nothing in George’s character would au- 
thorize our accusing him of fatuity, and yet 
he confessed to himself that he had slightly 
expected this letter. Opening it, he read : 

“ My dear M. George : It is very fortu- 
nate you left me your address, for there is 
need of my writing to you, and I did not 
want to speak about it to our neighbors. 
What have you done, M. George — you whose 
modest air and good heart inspired so much 
confidence ? I asked you to go up and see 
my dear children, and that is all I know. We 
have not been able to get anything out of 
Jeanne, whom you found alone, and who, 
from that time to this, has been sad and de- 
jected, even sick. There is no necessity for 
my telling you that, when we confer a favor 
on people, it never gives us the right to treat 
them with less respect and esteem than we 
would others. I still wish to believe that you 
have nothing to reproach yourself with. If 
your conscience feels easy, come to see me 
Sunday morning, for I want to speak to you 
seriously and confidentially. We shall be 
alone. Hoping that you are and may always 
be worthy of our friendship, I greet you 
heartily. Widow Blanchemain.” 

Sunday morning, George, pleased with this 


134 


Only a Pin, 


recall, but troubled at Jeanne’s ill-health, 
stood at the door of the white house. 

*‘You have got here, have you, you pro- 
voking boy ? ” said Madame Blanchemain. 
“ I have a great many things to say to you 
now whilst we are alone. Tell me frankly, 
M. George (this is between ourselves), tell me 
as if you were talking to your own mother 
or Jeanne’s, what you said to that poor little 
thing that has made her so sad ? You made 
use of the church as an entrance into this 
house of angels, and of piety to gain their 
esteem. They are under obligations to you, 
I admit. This imposes upon you great duties 
and a reserve that I thought you capable of 
— I who make such pretensions to reading 
faces. Why have you abused the opportuni- 
ty of access that business gives to bring 
trouble ? Answer me a,t once. If you come 
here only on business, why does it happen 
that you have caused more sorrow than your 
generosity does good ? You look like a good, 
honest fellow, but speak, speak at once, that 
I may know whether you are a friend raised 
up by Providence, or an enemy who, in the 
name of charity, has penetrated under our 
roof. And don’t think you can deceive me, 
either,” she added, taking a pinch of snuff, 
and fixing her eyes upon him. 

“ Compose yourself, madame,” replied 


Only a Phu 


135 


George, smiling, as soon as he could get in a 
word. “ I have nothing with which to re- 
proach myself, and I hope always to be 
worthy of your friendship and theirs. Ma- 
demoiselle Jeanne’s countenance, her talent, 
and what an honorable man like M. Redoute 
told me about her, inspired me at once with 
esteem and respect. All that I have seen 
here has only confirmed my opinion, and the 
place even where I first met her at St. Ger- 
main should be a guarantee of my conduct. 
When, the other day, you told me to go up 
and see her work, she seemed displeased at 
so prompt a return, and, upon her uttering 
but one word, I retired, begging her to excuse 
the intrusion, and promising not to return 
without her permission. What could I do ? 
And do not think that I am the least offended 
at this cool reception. I have learned to ap- 
preciate Jeanne still more for her native deli- 
cacy and prudent reserve, and was as happy 
at having been dismissed as others would have 
been at permission to remain. You see now, 
dear Madame Blanchemain, that perhaps I am 
still the very person whose assistance you have 
been looking forward to for your children ; 
also, that I am not unworthy your confidence 
and hospitality.” And he extended, his hand. 

“Ah! ah! my child, you have comforted 
my poor heart,” said she, taking his hand. 


1^6 


Only a Pin. 


and holding it in her two big ones ; 
“ but tell me now what you intend to 
do, for, since your explanations, I am a little 
enlightened as to Jeanne’s mind. Have you 
thought seriously of your future? In the 
world, you will find many opportunities of set- 
tling yourself advantageously in life, and if you 
form here a warm friendship, based as much 
as you please upon esteem and respect, who 
knows but what poor little Jeanne will be- 
come seriously attached to you, and you will 
thus involuntarily expose her to sad mistakes ? 
Is it not better for sensible, reasonable people 
to talk over and consider all this before step- 
ping into a path in which it is so difficult to 
turn back? ” 

“ Dear Madame Blanchemain,” replied 
George, you have spoken of Providence, and 
I also believe in Providence, to whom I cer- 
tainly attribute my meeting with Jeanne. I 
believe that a union with her would satisfy 
the dearest wants of my heart. I know that 
my mother will interpose no obstacle, and of 
this I can show you the proof. But it is not 
expedient for me at present to declare my in- 
tentions, and I hope you will understand me, 
in spite of this prudence. You shall be my 
confidante, and help me in preparing happi- 
ness for Jeanne. I shall greatly need your 
assistance, and, if you are willing, we two will 


Only a Pin, 137 

enter into a little conspiracy for the success 
of my plans.” 

“ Well spoken, indeed,” replied Madame 
Blanchemain. “ Now you must console the 
afflicted, and do be governed by reason and 
your own good heart, so as not to offend peo- 
ple whilst wishing to serve them.” 

Madame Blanchemain entered first. 

My child,” said she to Jeanne, who was 
alone, “ here is M. George, who would like 
very much to know how you are getting 
along with your paintings.” 

George entered, and extended his hand 
with a look imploring pardon. Jeanne ex- 
tended hers frankly and almost eagerly. 

“ I have needed your advice,” said she, and 
seated herself in the arm-chair, looking un- 
usually pale. 

George now noticed that everything about 
the room was just as he had seen it last. The 
same design was on the table, even the same 
bouquet, only it was then so fresh, so dewy, 
but now drooping piteously over the edge of 
a large slender glass which supported its dy- 
ing stems ; and Jeanne, her sweet face changed 
by suffering, was she not herself a fading 
flower? However, with beaming eyes, and 
countenance lit up with returning animation, 
she said : 

“ This week I have been able to do nothing. 


138 Only a Pin. 

I have been quite indisposed, but feel much 
better now, and have been needing your ad- 
vice about my work. How unfortunate ! I 
can’t use these poor flowers any more ! ” 

And she lifted them up tenderly. 

“ I will get others,” said George ; for, in 
business matters, it is necessary to be prompt 
and repair lost time.” 

“ Be quick, then,” replied Madame Blanche- 
main, “ and breakfast will be ready when 
you return.” 

An hour afterwards, the family (we call 
them so, for it is a pleasant name to impro- 
vise), Anna, Jeanne, Madame Blanchemain, 
and George, were reunited in the lower room. 
Confidence and serenity beamed upon every 
countenance. George (such is the power of 
self-sacrifice) emptied to the very dregs, and 
without apparent repugnance, the beverage 
Madame Blanchemain placed before him. 
What a triumph for the wine of Mareil ! 

“ It is passable,” said the good lady, com- 
placently ; “ but it is much better with water.” 

A gardener arrived, and brought into the 
dining-room a collection of the most beautiful 
flowers. The breakfast passed off pleasantly 
and gaily. 

Jeanne had not tasted coffee for several 
days, but this morning she did not refuse the 
pretty gilt-edged cup which Madame Blanche- 


Only a Pin. 


139 


main poured out particularly for her, and im- 
proved by an addition from the contents of 
the cream-jug. 

“ This is our spoilt child,” said she to 
George. “ Now we must take a stroll in our 
park ; there is nothing to do but open the 
gate.” 

A few moments later, they were all under 
the verdant dome of the forest, rambling 
along the Star of the nine roads. Holly Hill, 
the Dale — beautiful spots, still more delight- 
ful in the eyes of recovered friendship. 
George gave his arm to Madame Blanche- 
main ; the two sisters walked near by, some- 
times side by side, sometimes apart. When 
near the Castle du Val, they rested a short 
time on a gentle declivity, whence a ravishing 
spectacle was spread out before them. Soli- 
tude, silence, the beautiful landscape, all 
spoke to the imagination. George found 
himself seated beside Jeanne, but had nothing 
to say. Had she not that very day extended 
her hand in answer to his proffered greeting? 
Had she not told him, with a look fraught 
with meaning, that she needed his advice? 
That was all, but it was enough. 

Following the example of all visitors to 
this part of the majestic forest, they went out 
by the royal gateway. Here a transition 
awaited them which strikes every one that 


140 


Only a Pin, 

has ever witnessed it, and which, perhaps, 
can be found in no other part of the world. 

Leaving behind the twilight of that myste- 
rious asylum, formed by sombre shadows like 
the recessed chapels of a cathedral, with its 
large stained windows, one emerges into the 
full light of day. Above is the open sky, and, 
from the circular elevated rampart overlook- 
ing the landscape, one sees at one’s feet the 
land of the living, with its great river flowing 
through ; its numerous villages giving anima- 
tion to the scene ; its fertile fields producing 
bread and wine ; its woods furnishing shade 
in summer, fuel in winter ; and the graceful 
hills that descend in terraces. They followed 
the course of this changeable spectacle to the 
square and the old castle, and at length 
reached the white house. 

It was now time to talk of more serious 
things ; so, grouping the flowers either by way 
of harmony or contrast, according to the mas- 
ter’s rules, they gravely discussed the subject, 
assisting nature, devising, planning, working, 
all in this little room, where poverty itself 
could not extinguish a love of taste and art. 
Here a crystal cup was gracefully garlanded 
with the large beads of a rosary ; there a few 
copies of our best and purest authors bespoke 
the literary tastes of the* inmates, or a few 
albums recalled the most interesting forest 


Only a Pin, 


141 

scenes. But George’s attention was attracted 
by the portrait of a woman which occupied 
the very best and most conspicuous place in 
the room. It was an excellent pastel, worthy 
of Latour. 

It is our mother’s portrait,” said Jeanne. 

How natural the eyes are ! It seems as if 
she were looking at us.” 

And nothing more was said on the subject. 

How swiftly time passed ! George arose, 
he must go. Jeanne rose also, and, extending 
her hand, 

“ Already ! ” said she, with a quiet smile. 

It was an expiation of the cruel word she 
had uttered so short a time before. 

After a little consultation, it was agreed 
that George should return the following Sun- 
day to inspect the work already accomplished, 
and assist with his advice that just begun. 

Madame Blanchemain, conducting him 
down-stairs, said in a low voice : 

“ I am satisfied with you. Take courage, 
to-day you have made a turn in the road.” 


XXII. 


EXILE. 

CCORDING to the law of God, 
everything in nature must fol- 
low the steps either of progress 
or decadence : nothing is stable, 
nothing immutable. The sun, 
pale and faint at its rising, as- 
pires with increasing glory to 
the zenith, then gradually de- 
clines, until at last his fires are 
extinguished in the western 
waves ; the sea moans, it wildly tosses its bil- 
lows, and lashes itself against the rock-bound 
coast; then, as if exhausted with its vain 
efforts, it sinks back a placid mirror, in which 
the halcyon reflects her image. Vegetable 
life reveals the same unchanging law. Ani- 
mated by the sap of spring, the plants and 
flowers rear heavenward their vigorous stems, 
and flourish in increasing beauty, until the 
summer heat exhausts their vitality, and makes 
them the sport of the winds. Poor human 
beings that we are ! it is even thus with our- 
selves, our actions, our feelings, and the 



OpJy a Pin, 143 

power of reason alone is seldom sufficient to 
restrain us within wise limits. 

We can understand from this why George’s 
visits each Sunday became more and more 
prolonged ; also, why one beautiful even- 
ing in August, after a dreamy stroll in the 
forest, he found himself seated in Jeanne’s 
work-room beside her. Anna, in an adjoining 
apartment, played, upon an organ loaned her 
by a friend, one of those slow, sweet melodies 
resembling the echo of a human heart’s most 
impassionate utterings. Through the half- 
open window came, wafted in lukewarm 
breezes, the odors of the forest, joining their 
enervating influence to. that of the organ, 
which so truly imitated the plaintive voice 
of man. 

^‘You are silent, George,” said Jeanne, 
“ and yet we are reunited. When I refused 
to put my hand in yours, you said it v/ould 
add to your happiness if I granted your re- 
quest. You have my hand, and retain it al- 
most in spite of me ; but you are so thought- 
ful and quiet. Why have you lost all your 
gaiety, and why are your glances sadder than 
ever when bent upon me ? Are my eyes evil, 
that they reflect evil upon others, as you 
read to me the other day from that good 
book, in which we have still so much to read ? 
Take this album, and give us a sketch. I al- 


144 


Only Cl Pin. 

ways like to see you with a book or pencil ; 
idleness is not at all becoming to you/’ 

No ; I am not happy,” said George, be- 
cause I must soon go ; for this very reason, 
the evenings here are always sad. Jeanne, I 
must tell you all : I never wish to leave you. 
My position and means are sufficient to jus- 
tify my asking you to confide your life to me. 
My mother has given her consent. All de- 
pends upon you. If you have fully under 
stood the depth of my attachment, though 
until this moment I have never breathed it 
to you, will you not grant my request, be my 
wife, and then we will never be separated ? ” 

“ George,” replied Jeanne, disengaging her 
hand, “ you talk like a child, and yet I be- 
lieved you a man. The fault is mine, I can 
blame no one else. The day I dismissed 
you with one word, I read in your face so 
much chagrin that, when you presented your- 
self a second time, filled with remorse for my 
harshness, I allowed you to return. The re- 
sult was friendship, then intimacy, and at 
last that stronger attachment which now is 
a source of sorrow, though it may heretofore 
have afforded you a few days of happiness.” 

“ It depends entirely on you, Jeanne, to 
make me happy for ever ! ” said George. 

“Forever!” replied Jeanne. “And who 
knows whether this happiness will last even 


07 ily a Pin, 


145 


as long as the life of her who may fail at last 
to satisfy the needs of your heart ? Do you 
know who we are ? Are you acquainted with 
the state of our affairs ? Do you know that 
my sister and I are but one being, and our 
lives would be crushed if we were separated ? 
No, George ; I ought to have foreseen all this, 
and for some time past I have had a presenti- 
ment of it. Do not force our destiny ; do 
not be influenced by the beauty of a summer 
eve, the perfume of roses, and sweet music. 
Listen to reason, give your mind time for re- 
flection. Trouble, great trouble, hangs over 
my sister and myself. Work and study some- 
times beguile us into forgetfulness, but family 
affairs which would expose us to much hos- 
tility demand solitude. We have never made 
a confidant of any one in this matter, not 
even good Madame Blanchemain. It is closely 
connected with the memory of our venerated 
mother, and, until its termination, which may 
be a very disastrous one for us, leave us, 
George, to struggle alone ! Retain your 
brotherly friendship for us (it will lighten our 
sorrow), and continue to be the wise, sensible 
man you ever were.” 

'‘Dear Jeanne,” said George, “the greater 
your troubles, the greater my claim upon you. 
Cannot the assistance of a friend lighten these 
burdens, or cope successfully with your op- 


146 


Only a Pin, 


pressors ? And as to Anna, how delighted I 
would be to have her with us ! Do you 
think I 'would separate two beings so truly 
united by Heaven ? Will she not be my sis- 
ter also ? ” 

“ No, George ; it cannot be at present ; lis- 
ten to what I am going to say. I have un- 
derstood everything, I know you, and all 
the devotion of which you are capable ; but 
the constancy of this devotion must be proved 
by absence ! ” 

I am willing to abide by it, dear Jeanne ; 
any restriction you impose upon me will be 
easy, provided the expected recompense await 
me at last." 

You will leave us this evening, and see us 
no more for a long, a very long time ; but you 
Avill live for us, and we for you. It will not 
be as hard as you think, George ; for it is not 
my hand, my hair, my eyes you love : it is my 
soul, and my soul will be with you. When 
you are gone, and the white house no longer 
in sight, reflect well on your Jeanne’s last 
words, and you will find that she has spoken 
truly. You. will remain thus for — a year; 
then, when the storms of winter, wherw all the 
chill of absence, when the waves of the gay 
world in which you live will have swept over 
this ardor of a day, of a beautiful summer 
even, then, George, if your feelings are still 


Only a Pin. 


147 


unchanged, return to your Jeanne; you will 
find her awaiting you in this very place ! ” 

“ A year ! ” said George ; “ and you — will 
you not suffer from this absence ? ’’ 

“ No, George ; I feel within myself that I 
shall be strengthened and happy.” 

‘‘Well,” said George, ‘‘give me a pledge 
of our parting ; let my last look fall upon the 
picture that met my glance when Providence 
first placed you in my path. Give me the 
pin I then lent you, and which still confines 
your black scarf.” 

“ No, George ; no, my brother ; let not 
your last memory be that of an uncovered 
neck. Leave me this pin as a mark of your 
friendship, and, if you wish, I will return it to 
you at the end of a year. But listen to what 
I now say.” She arose, and, from a black 
velvet casket filled with fantastic metal orna- 
ments, drew forth a small diamond cross. 
“ We have suffered much,” said she ; “ I can 
acknowledge it to you Avithout shame. The 
money represented by this cross would have 
been very useful, many times indispensable, 
for our daily bread ; but to us, George, it was 
a talisman. We could not part with it. Our 
mother wore it, and her mother before. We 
have always treasured it most tenderly. Take 
it. I could not give you a better keepsake. 
Now good-by, and be courageous. Anna, 


148 


Only a Pin, 


come ; our brother George is going, and we 
will not see him again for a very long time.” 

George silently shook hands, and, on his 
way out, stopped a moment with Madame 
Blanchemain. Concealing his emotion, he 
requested this good lady to bestow every 
attention upon her dear neighbors, and to 
write him word if anything serious happened. 
Then, bidding her good-by, he crossed the 
threshold of the white house, giving vent to 
his suppressed grief. 


XXIII. 


WEAKNESS. 

MAN, that delicate and 
fragile being, apparently- 
destined to a life of fri- 
volity and repose, often 
conceals in her heart in- 
exhaustible treasures of 
strength and energy, when 
her nature has not been 
drained by the thousand 
vanities of an artificial ex- 
istence. 

And man, though rejoicing in the assump- 
tion of superiority, not unfrequently proves 
himself weak and powerless before the shafts 
of misfortune. Remembering this, we shall 
not be astonished to find George completely 
changed. Active and energetic, he pursues 
his daily labors with his usual assiduity, but 
seldom mingles in company, or participates 
with animation in the pleasant relaxations 
afforded him through the unremitting kind- 
ness of Monsieur and Madame Wolff. 

The winter passed quietly and slowly. A 



Only a Pin. 


150 

few messages, a few souvenirs, charmed the 
•pangs of absence; yet George was not him- 
self. He had lost that spirit of penetration 
and ardor in business which was formerly so 
prominent a feature of his character ; he 
awaited orders and executed them promptly, 
but from a sense of duty, and not with the 
interest, the eagerness, he had heretofore dis- 
played. His thoughts were elsewhere, and 
Jeanne was the constant theme — Jeanne, pale 
and thin, reclining in the big arm-chair, Anna 
carefully watching over her, and Madame 
Blanchemain delivering a thousand discourses 
by way of consolation. 

In her letters, however, there was not the 
slightest trace of sorrow ; she encouraged and 
comforted George with a sprightliness and 
gaiety almost incredible to him who knows 
the anxiety, the weighty cares, of that heart 
he had once imagined the abode of peace. 

The twelve pictures for Canada had been 
finished a long time. They were very much 
admired by M. Wolff, and approved by Re- 
doute, who was sometimes a guest of the 
banker. New orders were given, and activity 
continued to reign in the studio of the little 
white house. 

One of the first bright days of spring, 
George received a picture that had not been 
ordered. The letter of delivery informed 


Only a Pin. 


151 


him that it was a thirteenth gratis, ac- 
cording to established custom. It repre- 
sented a basket of moss filled with a grace- 
ful profusion of myosotis, eglantine, roses, 
coreopsis, and iris ; a spray of white eglan- 
tine, somewhat crushed and weary-looking, 
drooped over the side of the basket as if 
expiring, and, creeping along the edge of 
the picture, seemed to express the artist’s 
signature. 

Never was a work of art more lovingly 
caressed by its creator than this ; not even 
Mignon’s delicate pencil hovered more ten- 
derly, lingeringly, over those fair creations of 
genius which still adorn the Louvre. Over 
the moss, in and out through the trellis-work 
of the basket, shone the myosotis, whilst the 
drops of dew that the blue iris wept glittered 
like diamonds of the first water. 

George, with a burst of admiration, could 
almost have knelt before this unparalleled 
page of beauty. He stood a long time in 
silent contemplation, almost fancying he 
could see these^ fragile flowers swaying in the 
breeze, or poor Jeanne, nearly exhausted with 
her life of unremitting toil, patiently bending 
over her work of love. 

He at length began to enquire into the mys- 
tical sense of these flowers, thrown together 
without any apparent order ; and soon under- 


152 


Only a Pin. 


stood that, whether from chance or intention, 
the initial letter of each, when arranged in the 
order we have enumerated, spelt M-e-r-c-i 
(thanks). 

He had no longer a doubt that the little 
spray of eglantine straying along the edge of 
the picture, with a dewdrop glittering on its 
heart, was Jeanne’s portraiture. 

How he admired, how he spent hours before 
this beautiful work of art, this eloquent 
though speechless messenger ! 

One day, whilst thus engaged, a letter was 
handed him. The tremulous characters were 
familiar. 

“ My dear M. George,” said the missive : 
“ As I promised to tell you the truth, for 
our poor children are too brave and too 
proud to complain themselve§, I ought not 
to leave you in ignorance that they have had 
a great deal of trouble here lately, more than 
usual, and Jeanne is nearly overcome. I do 
not know the cause of it, for they have told 
me nothing ; but two lawyers have been here. 
Do not come yourself, for Jeanne would not 
pardon your want of compliance with your 
promise. I warn you, so that you can find 
some means, through the help of a discreet 
friend, to inform yourself of what is going on. 
I cannot advise you what to do, but perhaps 


Only a Pin, 


153 


your own heart will be inspired with some 
good thought. Adieu, and keep up your 
courage. 

“Your devoted friend, 

“ Widow Blanchemain.” 

This situation of affairs seemed frightful to 
George. His protegees defenceless against 
powerful adversaries; poor Jeanne, worn out 
by toil and suffering, opposing the slight 
barrier of her energy alone against the tide of 
troubles she so persistently concealed from 
himself and Madame Blanchemain, her most 
intimate friend — he could stand such torment 
no longer, he felt released from his promise 
by the very peril in which Jeanne was placed, 
and was just starting for St. Germain, when 
he encountered upon the threshold the 
friendly face of Borgh^se. 

“ You are always my guardian angel, dear 
Borgh^se,” said he, making her enter; “you 
alone can save me. I am unhappy, and I 
can have no better confidante than you, my 
good, indulgent friend.” 

“ You are in love, George,” replied Bor- 
gh^se coldly ; “ it takes very little time to dis- 
cover that. If you would just compose yourself, 
and collect your thoughts, it would be much 
more becoming. Ah ! what’s this picture ? 
A messenger sent you ? And these scattered 


154 Only a Pin, 

letters^what’s the meaning of all this ? I 
hardly recognize you, George ; you, once so 
polite, so agreeable, how quiet and devoted 
to solitude — no more music, no more pleasant 
conversations. M. Wolff himself is anxious 
about you. I have come to hear your com- 
plaints and console you. I could not have 
arrived more seasonably ; but if you wish me 
to be your only confidante, do try and conceal 
your agitation a little , more. If you are not 
careful, everybody will read your secret on 
your forehead.” 

“ Dear Borghese, thanks ! Some other 
time I will hear your wise comments ; but to- 
day, I beg, I entreat you, who have given me 
so many marks of sincere friendship that I 
feel free to claim your services — I beg you to 
go this moment — here is the address of the 
lady who is in distress — go to her, find out the 
cause, and let me know the remedy.” 

He wrote, on the same letter that Jeanne 
had sent with the picture, these few words : 

‘‘Dear Jeanne: Place confidence in the 
devoted friend who presents this letter ; she 
comes to your assistance. George.” 

Having received this password, Borghese 
promised to set off immediately, and return as 
soon as possible. 


07 ily a Pin. 


155 


In a couple of hours, accompanied by her 
waiting-maid, she was at St. Germain. The 
little white house had already been described, 
and she had no difficulty in finding it. But 
a very few minutes, and she was in the 
presence of Jeanne, who, occupied with her 
painting, and absorbed in thought, scarcely 
noticed the stranger’s entrance. 

“ Mademoiselle Jeanne, you know this writ- 
ing,” said the astonished Borghese, gazing at 
the face that was evidently so familiar. 

She presented the letter, and added a few 
words from George. 

Jeanne thanked her cordially, but regretted 
exceedingly the trouble this good lady had 
taken on her account, as she really was not 
in need of assistance. 

Oh ! Mademoiselle Jeanne, tell that to 
others, but not to a friend like me ! I am too 
conscientious in the discharge of a duty to be 
put off with an answer like that. I am Bor- 
gh^se, an old friend of M. Wolff. We are all 
troubled at the unaccountable change in 
George, whom we esteem as an honest, esti- 
mable youth ; he is changed in health, looks, 
manners. It is all the result of anxiety on 
your account. As I have already befriended 
him on several occasions, he knows he can rely 
upon my discretion and devotion ; that is why 
I now represent him here, and I thank him 


156 Only a Pin. 

for the mission, for it is not difficult to per- 
ceive how worthy you are of all the interest 
with which you have inspired him. Now, if 
you have the slightest friendship for poor 
George, who, from some reason or other, I 
know not what, it seems is prevented from 
appearing in person, you must, at least, let 
him know the cause of your troubles. You 
would pity him, poor fellow, if you could but 
see him ! Perhaps it is you who keep him in 
exile by way of punishment or probation ; 
but do at least allow him the privilege of 
obliging and assisting you in trouble.” And 
Borghese extended her hand in token of sin- 
cerity. 

“ Madame,” said Anna, “ we are very grate- 
ful for your kindness, but how can we, on the 
very first interview, confide to an utter stranger 
(though one who doubtless honors us by her 
presence) the secret of our sorrows ? Would 
it not be fruitlessly exposing our bruised 
spirits to still greater trials ? ” 

“ That is true, mademoiselle ; I have no 
right to your confidence, and I do not seek 
it, except on poor George’s account, whom 
you doubtless esteem, and in whom I feel 
that I have a right to be interested. Are your 
troubles pecuniary ones? If so, the help of 
friends can surely extricate you ; but, from a 
few words which escaped George, I am 


Only a Pin. 


157 


inclined to believe that you are annoyed and 
persecuted by enemies. Cannot friends help 
you combat them ? I beg you, Mademoiselle 
Jeanne, who already bear traces of keen suf- 
fering, not to be governed by a pride which, 
however honorable in itself, may yet make a 
great deal of misery for every one if you are 
not very careful. Do I seem like a curious 
person, merely prying into your affairs ? If 
thoughts and feelings find expression in the 
countenance, you can read upon mine only 
the desire to serve you and oblige George, 
who can endure this anxiety no longer.” 

“ Well, madame,” ^aid Jeanne, convinced by 
the kind, frank air of Borghese, “ I do not 
wish to cause any one suffering on my ac- 
count, and, if the recital of my trials is abso- 
lutely necessary to the fulfilment of your 
mission, I submit, to that necessity.” 

She wiped her face, suffused with blushes, 
and, making an effort, continued in a faltering 
tone : 

‘‘ We lost our mother,” said she, taking her 
sister by the hand, “ and with her everything. 
She owed a relation the sum of ten thousand 
francs, but afterwards deposited with this 
same relation thirty thousand francs recovered 
from our father’s inheritance. This covered 
the old debt, and left in his. hands twenty 
thousand francs, which was all our means. 


158 


Only a Pm. 


Our mother carefully kept, the receipt ; she 
spoke of it even during her sickness, and 
said : ‘ My children, when the time comes, I 
will tell you where to find it, for I am afraid 
of being taken unawares.’ However, she 
died without telling us where it was, and we 
were too overwhelmed with grief to think of 
the receipt again. We have never found it. 
Soon after our mother, the relation died, and 
his implacable heirs called upon us to show 
the receipt for the ten thousand francs. 

“ In a word, I wish to say that we as- 
sumed the debt for the sake of our dear 
mother’s name and honor ; but, with the 
strictest economy, we have been able to amass 
only a very small part of the sum. J-a v^in, 
do we protest that the estate owes us thirty 
thousand francs — twenty thousand after de- 
ducting the debt — we can produce no other 
proof than our word, and, by means of the 
deed setting forth our accepting the responsi- 
bility, they wish to constrain us.” 

What an outrage ! And haye you con- 
sulted no one ? But first of all, let me tell 
you, my poor children, that the document 
you have signed accepting this debt is null, 
because you were not of age when your 
mother died ; moreover, there is some treach- 
ery under this. You must give me the names 
of these heirs ; believe me, matters will come 


Only a Pin, 159 

out right, but do let me caution you, above 
everything, not to sign any papers/' 

Borgh^se commanded confidence by her air 
of frankness, by the energy and conviction 
expressed in all her words. Anna, looking at 
Jeanne, as if seeking counsel in her eyes, 
wrote a few names, which she handed Bor- 
gh^se, together with some documents and 
stamped papers. 

“ You wished it, madame ; we have yielded 
to your importunity, and now we rely upon 
your discretion, for no one yet knows our 
secret." 

You may depend upon my silence," said 
Borgh^se. “ And now let us speak of poor 
George. Do you still keep hifn much longer 
in penance ? Have you not at least a 
word of consolation, some little token from 
your own hand, M.ademoiselle Jeanne, that 
I can can place in his ? He is so unhap- 
py ! ” 

Jeanne seemed to search for something, 
then hesitated. 

“ If not troubling you too much, madame, 
I would ask you to deliver this little picture 
to George. It is our mother’s portrait, and 
for a long time he has been wishing to copy 
it for himself. It appears to me that, at this 
particular time, he would find it both a plea- 
sant and useful occupation." 


i6o Only a Pin, 

She took down the portrait, and kissed it 
piously. 

“Yes,” replied Borghese ; “give it to me, 
it is a good idea.” 

“ But it will be a bother to madame,” said 
Anna. 

“ I have my waiting-maid,” replied Bor- 
ghese ; “ do not worry, I will be responsible 
for this precious portrait, which I know you 
regard as one of your greatest treasures. 
Good-by, and thanks, my dear children, for 
having permitted me to fulfil my mission. Be 
courageous, you shall soon hear good news ; 
and, above all, if there is still time, do not 
sign anything.” 

Before taking leave, Borghese visited with 
interest and curiosity the modest apartment 
of our two sisters ; then; having made a call 
on Madame Blanchemain, to thank her for 
George, and present his compliments, she cast 
a last admiring though scrutinizing look 
upon the white house, nestled amidst the 
wealth of luxuriant roses that half concealed, 
yet greatly increased, its graceful, picturesque 
appearance. 


XXIV. 


MANTES THE ELEGANT. 

ERE, at last, was an element 
of activity for George, so 
despairing in his solitude 
and impotence. He re- 
spectfully pressed his lips 
to the portrait received 
from Borghese (perhaps 
she told him that Jeanne 
had done the same), and 
thanked that excellent 
friend for her services ; but there was no time 
now for sketching, more important work be- 
sought his attention. 

His high position in the establishment of 
M. Wolff left him at liberty to pursue his own 
course In cases of emergency. He hastily ex- 
amined the papers remitted, and, with the ex- 
clamation, ‘‘ All is not lost ! ” immediately 
set out for Mantes, the abode of the impla- 
cable heirs who had caused all this trouble. 

Mantes, denominated the Elegant, and, ac- 
cording to universal testimony, deserving of 
the appellation, appeared to him the most de- 



i 62 


Only a Pin. 


testable place in the world. Wishing to act 
prudently, he. had his arrival announced to 
M. Doucet, the cruel persecutor of the 
orphans, and represented himself as charged 
with a commission relating to the business of 
the Demoiselles Duval. 

He was ushered into the presence of a man 
of mature age ; his exterior was plump, his 
manners affable and somewhat jovial. Every- 
thing about the house bespoke ease and com- 
fort. 

“ Monsieur,” said George, ‘‘your friendly 
greeting and benevolent air inspire me with 
the hope that you will aid me in rescuing my 
clients from their painful positions.” 

“You are right, monsieur,” answered the 
fat man ; “ honest people immediately recog- 
nize one another ;• it is a sort of freemasonry. 
I am convinced that we shall come to an un- 
derstanding. I know how honorable these 
young persons are. Upon my word they are 
charming, and though momentarily their ad- 
versary, eh ! eh ! I cannot help paying them 
some compliment*” 

“ Monsieur,” replied George, “ I thought 
we were here to discuss serious things.” 

“ Exactly, monsieur, exactly. As heir of 
my excellent uncle Doucet, whom I shall 
always regret, and as administrator upon this 
worthy relative’s estate, I find myself under 


Only a Pin. 


163 

the necessity of reclaiming from the Demoi- 
selles Duval, both of age, the restitution of 
ten thousand francs which their mother owed 
this good uncle Doucet, with interest from 
the date of the loan. But give yourself no 
uneasiness; I am a person who will be as gen- 
tle as possible in the execution of this man- 
date, and the ladies — ” 

But, monsieur, you know very well that 
they have nothing in the world, and it is with 
the greatest difficulty their toil supplies the 
bare necessities of life.'’ 

“ No doubt ; but they have friends,” said 
M. Doucet, laughing ; “ they have friends, for 
everybody is interested in such charming per- 
sons, and truly they merit it.” 

Why do you make them responsible for 
the debts of their mother, who left them no- 
thing? They were not of age when she died, 
and you know very well that they owe no- 
thing.” 

“ Ah ! my dear monsieur,” replied M. 
Doucet, with a penetrating look, you don’t 
understand the persons of whom you speak. 
It is a matter of heart, of self-abnegation ! 
Do you know they possess one very rare trait, 
and for which they will be rewarded in — in a 
better world ? ” 

“ And what is this extraordinary trait ? ” 

“ Filial piety, monsieur, piety. They re- 


164 


Only a Pin. 

cognized and assumed spontaneously their 
mother’s debt, when, arriving at majority, they 
were free to do so. Nothing was necessary 
except a few threats — we could seize the 
furniture, the family portraits, altogether not 
worth a thousand francs. They very soon 
acknowledged the ten thousand francs. ’Twas 
admirable, monsieur! ” 

“ And,” replied George indignantly, “ you 
doubtless intend to take advantage of such an 
irregular proceeding ? For the cause of the 
debt cannot be pointed out.” 

“ It is a perfectly* regular proceeding,” said 
M. Doucet, with a benign air. “ There were 
various ways of coming to an accommodation, 
but they would not agree to my proposition. 
If at first they had consented to behave a 
little more amiably, well, it might perhaps have 
been better for them. People are always dis- 
posed to be accommodating when treated in 
a proper manner ; and besides, it was to their 
interest ; but they are very proud, very proud 
indeed. They wear their poverty like a diadem, 
monsieur — I repeat it, like a diadem ! My 1 it 
was superb ! But then I say, ‘ My pretty ladies, 
restore me my money, or allow me to seize ’ 
— a quotation from the opera, you know.” 
And he laughed coarsely. 

“ Monsieur,” said George, rising, ‘‘ this affair 
will lead you further than you think.” 


Ofzly a Pin, 


165 

“ Oh ! the right exists. I could seize upon 
their goods to-morrow, but I am a kind man. 
I am not named Doucet (sweetish) in vain — * 
eh ! eh ! Excuse me, even in business I 
cannot resist punning.” 

“Your steps shall be followed up, and if 
ever — ” 

“ Ah ! my dear monsieur, in business we 
should keep our temper. I either have or 
have not the law on my side ; it’s as simple as 
good-day, and, in. assuming such a tone, you 
forget perhaps the true, interests of your 
amiable clients. But do you really find me 
hard, merciless ? Ah ! you are unacquainted 
with M. Doucet; enquire all around the 
country as to the general opinion ; everybody 
in Mantes the Elegant will tell you that he is 
the most affable of men. I am a member of 
a benevolent society, have been church- 
warden, and would be yet, except for the 
obstacles which — but it would consume too 
much time to talk about these things ; in- 
deed, I would not harm a mouse. But to 
return to these ladies : have we not offered 
them them eans of withdrawing from this 
difficulty, without exhausting their slender 
purse, and they will not agree to it? The 
other day, we were just on the point of a de- 
termination, but the little one — what is her 
name?” 


Only a Pin. 


1 66 

^‘Mademoiselle Jeanne,” said George. 
“ Well, what then ? ” 

“Ah! but she is obstinate, that little wo- 
man. If ever she marries — for all that, she is 
not so bad, and — ” 

“ Continue, monsieur! ” exclaimed George, 
greatly irritated. “ What were your concili- 
ating propositions ? ” 

“ You are aware of that strange story they 
tell of holding in reserve a receipt of thirty 
thousand francs which Madame Duval, ac- 
cording to her own account, deposited with 
Uncle Doucet, and of which there is not the 
slightest trace mentioned in his papers, always 
well kept (for he was sharp, the good man). 
Can you conceive a similar reason for dispens- 
ing people from paying their debts? And 
where is this receipt ? What has become of it ? 
‘ Ah ! we don’t know ; it is somewhere ’ ” (and 
he imitated a woman’s voice). “ That’s not 
the way to attend to business. We said to 
them, ‘ You are interesting ladies ; you devote 
yourselves to the fine arts.’ I myself, mon- 
sieur, am very fond of the fine arts, and greatly 
regret that Mantes the Elegant does not pos- 
sess a museum. Yes, monsieur; the arts, 
literature, poetry, all affect my imagination. 
It is a weakness, as I told the amiable Jeanne, 
who is a flower amidst flowers — eh ! eh ! The 
other day, I said to her : ‘ Let us talk no more 


Only a Pin. 


167 


about all that ; we shall be able to understand 
one another ; acknowledge only that you have 
received the thirty thousand francs, which you 
claim without a vestige of right, title, or proof, 
and we benevolently renounce all claim to the 
ten thousand francs, for which we can produce 
a legal title with two signatures ; we will tear 
up the receipt, and give you the pieces.’ 
There, monsieur, that is what I call open- 
handedness, generosity, heart ! Ah ! you be- 
gin to have a more favorable opinion of poor 
M. Doucet, of whom they have said so many 
hard things ! If you are a well-disposed man, 
you can arrange this matter ; it is a simple 
misunderstanding.” 

“Indeed I will arrange it!” answered 
George seriously. “ I have now obtained 
all the information I wish, and you will still 
find me in your path before your iniquitous 
work is finished ! Good-by, monsieur.” 

“As you please, monsieur,” replied Doucet, 
following him to the door, and crying after 
him from the top of the steps ; “ but in busi- 
ness we must keep our temper. I bid you a 
friendly good-by.” 


XXV. 


THE PORTRAIT. 

EORGE was furious. Has- 
tening to Paris, he con- 
sulted a learned lawyer, 
who promised him to ex- 
amine into the affair. He 
felt a little encouraged as 
to the result, for Borghese 
told him that she had par- 
ticularly counselled the two 
friends to make no pro- 
mises and sign no papers. 

One day, he was seated in his room, gazing 
sadly at the precious pledge sent him from 
St. Germain. “ Poor mother,” said he, “ how 
miserable you would be to see the children 
you watched over and protected now so de- 
fenceless against persecution ! But I pro- 
mise, dear mother, to fill your place.” He 
opened his secretary, and, making a note of 
his savings, perceived that in all he could 
produce a sufficient amount to wrench the 
receipt from the hands of this unworthy 
Doucet, in case his lawyer saw no other 



Only a Pin^ 169 

means of extricating the sisters from their 
adversaries. 

Whilst admiring the angelic sweetness of 
this pastel, in reality a beautiful work of art, 
he noticed a strange line, a slight wrinkle, 
over the eyes, which somewhat marred the 
tone and effect of the painting. Having ob- 
served it more attentively, he supposed that 
in some way or other a paper could have 
slipped behind, and, as the color appeared 
changed by contrast, he undertook to remedy 
this defect. Six little crooked nails held the 
picture in its frame. 

He drew out the nails very cautiously, so 
as to avoid injuring the fragile pastel, and a 
double pap&r indeed fell at his feet. Careless- 
ly enough he picked it up, but his indiffer- 
ence vanished at sight of that one word 
“ Will ” written upon the envelope in a trem- 
bling hand. 

His face was pallid, his heart beat violent- 
ly ; this envelope contained the last words of 
an adored mother — to him had been reserved 
the transmission of her last desires. 

He attempted to unfold the paper, which 
was not sealed, but his courage failed ; leav- 
ing everything in disorder, he ran to his good 
friend Borghese, and, seizing her hand, ex- 
citedly exclaimed : 

Read it ! ” 


1 70 Only a Pin. 

“ What is it ? ” said Borghese. How agi- 
tated you are ! Do you wish to make your- 
self sick? Is this the way you husband the 
strength which is necessary to defend your 
friends ? Ah ! some documents that have 
reached you from St. Germain ! They’ll not 
kill you ! ” 

And she really held in her hand a stamped 
paper which was detached from the enve- 
lope. 

Casting her eye over it, an expression of 
surprise, and then of heartfelt satisfaction, 
illumined her mobile countenance. 

“ George,” said she, “ sit down and com- 
pose yourself; be prepared to hear either 
good or bad news with the fortitude becom- 
ing a good, sensible man. How can you as- 
sume the care of others, if you are not master 
of yourself? But I will dispense with the 
rest of the sermon now, and give it to you 
some other time. Listen, whilst I read this 
little paper which Providence sends you. 
But whilst I think of it, how did this pre- 
cious article get into your hands ? ” 

It was behind the portrait of our mother,” 
said he. 

‘‘Yes; now I understand all; poor wo- 
man ! she sought the surest place, the most 
protected. ‘ My children,’ said she, ‘ would 
lose, would suffer, everything, rather than 


Only a Pm. 


171 


part with their mother’s portrait.’ Then 
sickness came, and death at last surprised her, 
perhaps, before she had time to tell where 
her treasure was concealed.” 

“ Her treasure ! ” exclaimed George. 

What do you say ? ” 

‘‘ Listen carefully, and don’t interrupt me, 
not even to express approbation ! ” 

She read : 

“ ‘ I, the undersigned, Hercules Doucet, re- 
siding at Mantes the Elegant, Rue des Pres, 
Number 1 3, acknowledge having received from 
the widow Madame Duval the sum of thirty 
thousand francs in specie, which sum is 
destined, first, to pay me for an advance of 
ten thousand francs which I made her, and, 
secondly, to form a reserved fund of twenty 
thousand francs, which I will reimburse upon 
demand, after a three months’ written warn- 
ing ; the said sum remaining, moreover, under 
precisely the same stipulated terms, in case 
of the decease of the said Madame Duval, 
and with the interest at five per cent, from 
present date. 

“ ‘ (Signed) HERCULES DOUCET. 

‘“Mantes the Elegant, 

“ ‘ Dec. 15, 18 — .’ ” 

O George ! my child, it is God who 


Only a Pin, 


1 72 

leads us by hand ! What do you think of 
this ? They are in our power now, and your 
Doucet will pay dear for his rascality ! ” 

What words could express the happiness 
of George, what words depict his overpower- 
ing emotions — his protegees rescued from 
poverty and grief, peace and prosperity about 
to enter the white house ! 

Go, dear Borghese,” said he ; “ don’t 
lose one instant in carrying the good news.” 

“ And this will,” replied Borghese — “ ought 
we not to inspect its contents? It is not 
even sealed.” 

In pity, do not touch this holy thing ; it 
is a secret of which God alone should be the 
witness ! ” 

“You are right, George ; you are learning 
thoughtfulness and wisdom. Go now, inform 
our lawyer, and get his advice. Then, to- 
morrow, I will start for St. Germain ; you are 
not yet permitted to make your appearance 
there, and you must keep your vow. But 
be patient ; things are beginning to look very 
bright.” . 


XXVI. 


THE CONSPIRACY. 

ONSIEUR WOLFF him- 
self was much worried at 
the very perceptible change 
in George, who, though un- 
flagging in his attention to 
business, was evidently un- 
happy. Several times the 
kind banker endeavored to 
interrogate him on the sub- 
ject ; but George always 
evaded his questions, saying that he would be 
ungrateful indeed were he not happy where 
so much kindness and hospitality were lavish- 
ed upon him. M. Wolff at last wrote to his 
mother, and, though the tone of her letter was 
guarded and cautious, he began to suspect 
that George’s malady was some affection of 
the heart. 

An experienced man, he placed the ladies 
in the field, convinced that their assistance 
would be invaluable in making discoveries in 
the regions of tenderness. 

Borghese soon read the young clerk’s un- 
suspecting heart, and then a conspiracy was 



174 


Only a Pin, 


planned to bring this rather gloomy wooing 
to a happy termination. M. WolfF learned 
that George’s inamorata was truly worthy of 
esteem, and that she strikingly resembled the 
“ Correggio ” which was the pearl of his 
museum. 

He had formerly placed on exhibition in 
his gallery that charming picture of the sym- 
bolic basket, and it elicited universal admira- 
tion. 

He was even anxious to purchase it, regard- 
less of price ; but George, who was equally 
unwilling to part with such a treasure, had 
sent it to his mother, remembering her wish 
that his wife should possess some one talent 
which might be a recreation in prosperity, or 
a resource in misfortune. He hoped also by 
this to win her approval of his plans. 

Madame Wolff most eagerly seconded all 
her husband’s plans for the success of the 
pleasant trick they were going to play upon 
George, who had become endeared to them 
as if he were their child ; and, what was rare 
indeed, the secret ^ of this trick was not 
divulged. 

“ Is this Mademoiselle Jeanne so very 
cruel,” said M. Wolff, “ that she keeps her 
lover in exile a whole year? ” 

“ It is a sort of trial,” answered Borgh^se ; 
“ she has not much faith in the fascinations of 


07 ily a Pm. 


175 


a day, and places no confidence except in a 
long, well-tried attachment.” 

‘‘ Well, this poor child may think herself 
very prudent, but she has done exactly what 
increases instead of lessening his impatience. 
But it is time to put an end to all this, 
and punish Mademoiselle Jeanne for her 
rigor ; I must oblige her to come here and 
release George from his promise. Which of 
you ladies would like to assist me in this good 
work?” 

Of course, all were anxious to do so. 

“ Well, here are my projects. George’s 
services to us have been of such a nature, so 
great, and so faithfully performed, that we 
might well tax our ingenuity and purse in 
doing a little something for his future. As 
he is not fond of luxury or ostentation, 
and anything of that sort would displease 
him, we must try something else. Borghese, 
you have given me an artistic account of the 
picturesque little white house that charmed 
you so and engrosses all our dear George’s 
thoughts ; we must transport this house here, 
and the queen who reigns over it.” 

“And will you tell us how ?” answered 
Borghese. 

“ Nothing easier. I judge, from your po- 
etic description of this miniature villa, that it 
is something like the pavilion at the bottom 


176 


Only a Pm. 


of our garden. I want you, who have been 
there, to make an exact design of the house, 
both as to exterior and interior, and give me 
an idea of the furniture. I will attend to 
the rest.” 

Fine weather had arrived. M. Wolff’s pro- 
ject was very quickly and very discreetly ex- 
ecuted. Every one was absolutely forbidden 
to enter the garden, except the workmen, who 
were furnished with the password, and went 
out by a side gate. The pavilion was transform- 
ed into a perfect representation of the white 
house. Nothing was v/anting ; not even the 
green trellis, nor the beautiful running roses, 
all in bloom, which had been transported as 
if by enchantment, and clambered to the 
very roof of the little edifice. The furniture 
ornamenting the upper story was covered 
with new chintz of a plain ground dotted 
with roses, and everything about the rooms 
conspired to make them a faithful imitation 
of Jeanne’s rnodest home. 

Borgh^se was general superintendent, and 
Madame Wolff, who assumed charge of the 
interior details, consulted her judgment, and 
promptly executed every suggestion. 

One is at a loss for nothing in Paris, and, as 
M. Wolff’s ingenious generosity spared nei- 
ther expense nor pains, in a few days the 
white house was ready. 


Only a Pm, 


177 


The wardrobes and bureaus contained a 
complete trousseau ; and dishes, glasses, plate 
(everything in simple though excellent taste), 
were secretly carried to the house, and depo- 
sited in well-secured sideboards. 

Crayon, colors, and vellum were all upon 
the table ; nothing was forgotten, not even the 
flowers which, at the last moment, were to be 
carried in. And promising mutual secrecy, 
the conspirators retired, satisfied with them- 
selves, and very proud of their work. 


XXVII. 


JUSTICE. 

NE gloomy day of incessant 
rain, the two sisters, worn 
out by their constant strug- 
gles, were seated side by 
side in their chamber at 
the white house. 

The north wind rattled 
the panes of glass with a 
sinister noise, and melan- 
choly forebodings seemed 
to linger in the air. The white roses were 
whirled from their stems, and fell like snow- 
flakes against the windows. 

“ What a stormy day ! ” said Anna. I have 
often noticed that such weather is the har- 
binger of evil for us ! ” 

“ That means, dear sister,” replied Jeanne, 
that you are suffering, and attribute your 
bad feelings to the weather. But you forget 
that fine weather will return, and perhaps our 
own bright days also ; we must not lose 
courage. Have we not friends who are trying 
to help us out of our difficulties ? ” 



Only a Pm. 


179 


And how can you believe, poor Jeanne, 
that kindness and good-will alone will extri- 
cate us ? Have we not an engagement to 
fulfil, and implacable creditors to satisfy ? ” 
“We have already passed our darkest 
hours. You had despaired of our getting 
work, and you see that We have more than we 
can do. We must never give up. Everything 
passes away, everything is buried in oblivion 
except sin, and God, who watches over us — ” 
Just then a vehicle stopped before the door. 
This was an event of such rare occurrence 
that the two sisters were filled with redoubled 
consternation ; even the brave Jeanne could 
scarcely conceal her alarm. 

“ Why worry yourself? ” said she. “ I will 
take all the responsibility upon myself.” 

The coach door opened, and vomited forth, 
like the mouth of a venomous monster, four 
persons of suspicious aspect. 

Poor little white house, peace, repose, and 
friendship were so in accordance with thy 
modest exterior, must thou now be despoiled 
of all these by the claws of chicanery ? for this 
hideous word was plainly written upon the 
forehead of these sinister visitors. 

With bustle and noise, they mounted the 
stairway, each step striking like an iron ham- 
mer on the hearts of these poor children, who 
felt powerless to resist. 


i8o Only a Pin. 

The first presenting- himself was a round, 
plump man, who assumed quite an air of dig- 
nity, in order to impose upon the victims he 
wished to fascinate by this display of legal 
power; but, despite all his efforts to the con- 
trary, the jovial air would betray itself, and 
eclipse the dignity. Our reader is at no loss 
to recognize Benigne Doucet, who hastens 
to bring matters to a crisis. 

Next followed the co-heir, as tall and thin 
as the first was short and fat, and with a scape- 
gallows look that defied hilarity. 

The third wore the ordinary white cravat 
and black costume of the city lawyer. He was 
one of that species of lawyer charged with en- 
tangling law-suits, crushing families, drawing 
from an estate all that it could be made to 
represent on stamped paper, regardless of the 
residue in money. He was tall and slender, 
and, though apparently young, a crown of 
black hairs, like the tonsure of a monk, en- 
circled a bald, polished cranium. A hooked 
nose, like a vulture’s beak, menaced his chin. 
His eyes were absolutely concealed by dark- 
green glasses. His mouth was small, sharp, 
and utterly destitute of lips ; his manners 
cold, formal, ceremonious. This was M. 
Corbin. 

The fourth, who carried a large portfolio 
and implements of writing, was M. Seraphin, 


Only a Pin, i8i 

bailiff. Covered with a horrible oilcloth vest- 
ment, he resembled a mummy packed for ex- 
portation, and his vulgar figure expressed 
acquaintance with, and indifference to, the 
most trying scenes. 

These four persons all stood in a row, and 
made their salutations at the same time, M. 
Doucet cordially, the co-heir insolently, M. 
Corbin with freezing ceremony, and the bailiff 
awkwardly. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Jeanne, I would like 
to know what right you have to enter here 
and force our door ; and, if you do so to-day, 
may you not to-morrow, if it suits you, bring 
a reinforcement of six into this little room?” 

“ Ladies,” replied M. Doucet, smiling, 
“there is not one person too many. I have 
brought only those who were indispensable 
to this verbal process. Have no fears for to- 
morrow, the business must be terminated 
to-day I' 

And he motioned the three persons to seat 
themselves. The bailiff, like an actor well 
versed in his part, placed himself at the work- 
table, and displayed his frightful books. Anna 
hastened to withdraw the pictures scattered 
over the table, and shuddered with disgust 
at the odious portfolio bearing on its pages 
such a record of injustice, persecution, misery, 
despair I 


i 82 


Only a Pin, 

“ But I suppose, gentlemen,” said Anna, 
‘‘ if that is the object of your visit, you will 
certainly permit us to have a representative, 
for we are unacquainted with our rights.” 

You are free to have a representative, 
ladies,” responded M. Corbin, with an inclina- 
tion, “ but our proceedings cannot be even 
momentarily impeded.” And throwing him- 
self back in the arm-chair, 

“ Bailiff, write,” said he. 

M. Doucet rose, and began to examine the 
pictures ornamenting the walls. His appro- 
bation was unqualified. He really loved the 
fine arts ; it was a passion, a weakness he 
could not overcome. 

M. Corbin commenced to intone with a 
magisterial air : 

“At the request of M. Benign6 Doucet, 
proprietor at Mantes, and there residing, I, 
the undersigned, Aime Seraphin, bailiff, 
etc., etc. 

“ Whereas, the Demoiselles Duval, acknow- 
ledging themselves debtors to the said M. 
Doucet to the amount of ten thousand francs, 
which acknowledgment they signed and 
recognized after attaining their majority; 
whereas, the said M. Doucet, relying upon 
this promise, has .left them the provisional 
usage of the furniture, which was their mo- 
ther’s heritage ; but whereas, the above-men- 


Only a Pin, 


183 


tioned furniture, which forms the pledge of 
the above-named M. Doucet, being*^ liable to 
removal — ” 

“ What ! said Anna, “ would you forbid 
our disposing of what is our own? ” 

It is my say,” slowly replied the man 
without eyes and lips ; “ you respond in a 
low voice to the summons, if — ” 

And when the nasal voice was silent, the 
iron pen continued to grind out its maledic- 
tions on the stamped paper. 

But, indeed,” said M. Doucet, “ I notice 
that something has already disappeared. I, 
who adore good paintings, saw here, the other 
day, the portrait of a woman which must 
have been by the celebrated Latour — La- 
tour ! the glory of St. Quentin, the charming, 
inimitable pastel painter ! There are no more 
like him. He carried his secret with him to 
the tomb. Ah ! art is a delightful occupation. 
But after all, this portrait must be returned. 
M. Corbin, summon these young persons to 
declare what has become of the Latour. Have 
they removed it ? They certainly cannot 
understand the gravity of such a proceeding.” 

The monotonbus prattle of a citation, a 
summons, and I know not what other sinister 
proceedings, fell like hail-stones against the 
hearts of these poor sisters. Seated in a cor- 
ner of the room, clasped in each other’s 


184 


Only a Pin. 


arms, they wept bitterly at the thought of 
their tender mother’s portrait claimed by such 
birds of prey ; yet, amidst it all, Jeanne felt a 
secret exultation at its being beyond their 
reach. 

“ Well, my children,” said M. Doucet, ap- 
proaching them, “ will you never be reason- 
able? You forget that one word alone can 
end this to your satisfaction. Just sign this 
declaration, and I will rid you of the detesta- 
ble bailiff who has broken your spirits, for you 
must truly suffer. Indeed, it is painful to me, 
very painful, for I am a good, kind man, as 
all Mantes will tell you ; it grieves me to push 
things to this extremity.” 

Saying this, he held out to the two sisters a 
stamped paper. 

If we sign it,” said Anna, after glancing 
over it, “will you give up the document you 
have in your hands ? and will you leave in- 
stantly, never to return?” . 

“ Certainly,” answered M. Doucet ; “ we 
are of one accord there ; however destitute 
of flattery your request may be, mademoi- 
selle, we have here every instrument of writ- 
ing necessary for the purpose,” said he, tak- 
ing the co-heir to witness. 

“ Here, then,” said Anna; “the privilege 
of ridding ourselves of this odious affair can- 
not be too dearly bought.” 


Only a Pin, 185 

“ Stop ! ” said Jeanne. “ We were forbid- 
den ! ” 

“ But, poor little sister,” answered Anna, 
“how" can I leave you exposed to such in- 
dignities any longer ? God will aid us for the 
future.” And she took up a pen. 

Just at that moment was heard the sound 
of horses’ feet before the door, and, whilst the 
two sisters gently argued with each other, 
Jeanne still feebly restraining the pen in 
Anna’s hand, an unexpected apparition com- 
plicated yet more this scene which had sus- 
pended the conclusion of the verbal pro- 
cess. 

Two ladies, habited in riding costume, 
entered the room where all were as- 
sembled. 

A summer shower is soon over; the sun, 
piercing the clouds, began to shed his cheer- 
ing ray upon this gloomy picture. The 
tallest of these ladies, whom we have al- 
ready recognized as Borghese (she was accom- 
panied by Madame Wolff), glancing around 
the room, darted towards Anna, and ex- 
claimed : 

‘‘ Don’t sign it, the business is settled ! ” 

All the spectators were mute with astonish- 
ment. Anna and Jeanne grasped Borghese 
by the hand, and she introduced her friend 
to them as a protectress of George. 


i86 


Only a Pin, 

And first of all,” said Borghese, turning 
towards the company, “ whom have we here, 
for it is utterly unnecessary for us to embroil 
ourselves with the law. You, sir, holding 
the pen,” said she to the man in oil-cloth, 
“ would you please tell me your name and 
office?” 

I am named Seraphin, and am a sworn 
bailiff, here in the exercise of my functions,” 
answered the scribe, slightly intimidated. 

Monsieur, I understand that it is your 
duty to be here, but your functions are use- 
less on this occasion, since we can settle 
affairs without them. Please accept the price 
of a vacation, for one should not be troubled 
for nothing.” And she deposited a gold 
piece on the table before him. 

The bailiff, casting an astonished look upon 
his companions, made a respectful salutation, 
and departed. 

“ Now it is your turn, gentlemen of the 
law, to make me acquainted with your title, 
so that my address to you may be in accord- 
ance with your rank.” 

Monsieur is my business agent,” said 
Doucet, interposing ; “ he has a business 
agency, and is a man very experienced in 
settling contentions, and well known at 
Mantes.” 

“A business agent?” said Borghese, 


Only a Pin, 


187 


measuring the patient with her eyes. “ But 
is he a notary, lawyer, attorney, in fine, some- 
thing official and respectable ? ’’ 

“ I am a practitioner, madame, and here as 
the mandatory of M. Doucet.” 

“ But, my dear sir, one cannot be the 
mandatory of a man who is present himself. 
I am not a counsellor, but the office of man- 
datory appears to me rather elementary for a 
practitioner. It is necessary for one of you 
two to quit this place, and, in all justice, it 
should not be M. Doucet, since we have need 
of him to count out his money.” And her 
eyes seemed to point out the road to our 
acquaintance of the green spectacles. 

‘‘ I protest against the violence done me ! ” 
said M. Corbin, rising. 

It is your say,” replied Anna timidly, as 
she opened the door. 

^‘At last,” said Borghese, “the field of 
battle is cleared ; and where, then, is our 
third adversary ? ” 

“ He is my cousin and co-heir,” said M. 
Doucet. “ Do not seek him, he is behind me.” 

And he made the tall, gawky-looking cousin 
rise, though the latter wished nothing more 
earnestly than the privilege of taking his 
departure. He had led a peaceful country 
life, and this exciting scene, this energetic 
Amazon, who spoke in a loud, authoritative 


i88 


Only a Pin. 

tone, awakened in his breast a thousand 
anxieties and fears not at all to his taste. 

“ Here, now, dear M. Doucet, is an affair,” 
said Borghese, “ which is going to be ar- 
ranged amicably among ourselves, without 
the intervention of bailiff, practitioner, or any 
other scion of the law. How well it is to 
understand one another! To the point at 
once : what do you ask ? ” 

Madame,” answered Doucet, endeavoring 
to resume his assurance, and producing a 
bill from his portfolio, “ I do not ask at all, 
but exact, immediate payment of this debt ; 
in case of non-payment, making all allowance 
for the obstacles with which you have imped- 
ed the exercise of my rights.” 

“ Continue,” said Borghese ; “ there are no 
impediments, we are of one accord ; ten thou- 
sand francs, you say ? And you have made 
all this stir for so small a sum ? ” 

She appeared to be carelessly searching in 
her purse. 

“ Will you not have to return it to me ? ” 
said she. 

For what ?” replied M. Doucet, with an 
astonished air. 

Thirty thousand francs^' said Borghese, 
lightly touching the table with the pommel 
of her whip, and showing M. Doucet an open 
paper that she held very cautiously. 


Only a Pm. 189 

M. Doucet felt his knees giving way be- 
neath him, and fell back in his chair. 

‘‘ If you have not the money,” said Bor- 
ghese, “ you must go find it, or rather, we 
shall see that the difference is paid.” 

The co-heir had already disappeared. Bor- 
ghese, who, with the utmost politeness, con- 
ducted M. Doucet to the door, said to him, 
whilst closing it : 

“ In business, we must keep our temper. I 
bid you a friendly good-by.” 

Re-entering the little chamber, she found 
Madame Wolff seated between the two sis- 
ters, who knew not how to express their 
gratitude. 

“Tell me, Jeanne, if I am a worthy imitator 
of your Joan of Arc in the English camp? 
They have all bitten the dust ! ” 

“ And who sent us this unexpected assist- 
ance?” said Jeanne. 

“ Your mother,” answered Borgh^se ; “ and 
when you are more composed, calmer, dear 
children, read these last wishes of that tender 
mother who still watches over you. George 
made this fortunate discovery; the papers 
were concealed behind the portrait you lent 
him. But dry your tears,” said she, embracing 
them tenderly, “ I have other things to tell 
you. Will you join our conspiracy for 
George’s happiness ? ” 


190 


Only a Pin. 

“ Do with us whatever you wish,” said 
Jeanne, exhausted with emotion. 

‘‘Well,” said Borghese, “George is not to 
break his promise ; but it is you, Jeanne, who 
must come and thus release him from it. Your 
days of probation are ended. His mother is 
anxious for him to marry you at once. Your 
home is all ready, prepared for your recep- 
tion — a house the fac-simile of this, and your 
apartment a faithful reproduction of the one 
you occupy at present.. We came on horse- 
back, but have also a carriage, and wish you 
to accompany us, taking with you whatever 
may be indispensable for the first few days, 
particularly your drawings and paintings ; 
everything else you will find there. Beg 
Madame Blanchemain, your good neighbor, 
to come with you ; her presence will help to 
cheer you up until the great day we are all 
looking forward to. Let me caution you to be 
very prudent, for George is in profound ignor- 
ance, and M. Wolff wishes him to experience 
all the pleasure of an utter surprise.” 

“Anna,” said Jeanne, embracing her sister, 
“ do you still believe in your presentiments 
of stormy days ? ” 

And passing before the chaplet which orna- 
mented the crystal cup, she impulsively kissed 
the little cross. 

“We are at your service,” said she gaily. 


Only a Pin. 191 

“ Come, Anna, take these sketches and colors ; 
I will run and tell Madame Blanchemain.” 

An hour after, the two young women and 
their kind neighbor were in the carriage, and 
our two Amazons galloped along side. 

“ Louise,” said Borghese to her friend, “ tell 
me if you are not happier yourself when oc- 
cupied in trying to make others happy ? Is it 
not more like living than the life you have 
heretofore led ? ” 

I never spent a happier day ; and you, 
Borghese, have been sublime.” 

And they revelled in the anticipation of all 
the pleasure their innocent stratagem would 
give. 

Madame Blanchemain, whirled along in the 
carriage, could scarcely persuade herself that 
it was not a beautiful dream, and made a 
thousand discourses, whilst the two sisters, 
their hands clasped in hers, thought of their 
mother and George — their past and their 
future. 


XXVIII. 


AT last! 

T was towards evening when 
the equipage drew up at one 
of the side gates of the man- 
sion. Dinner was ready, 
waiting to be served in 
Jeanne’s apartment. Ma- 
dame Wolff and Borghese 
remained to dine, and also 
to preside at the installation 
of the happy inmates. 

“ But can we not see the poor exile this 
evening? ” asked Jeanne. “To know that he 
is so near us, and still so unhappy! ” 

“ No ; it is too late,” answered Borghese ; 
“ and you have had excitement enough for 
one day ; you need rest very much. Cheer 
up, though, I am going to give him good 
news by telling him you are relieved from 
your merciless persecutors. Sleep now, dear 
children, as if you were in your little white 
house ; friends are watching over you.” 

Jeanne and Anna did not attempt to thank 
her, except by a look, a smile, a silent pres- 
sure of the hand. 



Only a Pin. 


193 


Left to themselves, they immediately fell 
upon their knees, and thanked God for his 
manifold mercies, particularly the events of 
this day. Upon a prie-dieu they found the 
diamond cross attached to the paper containing 
their good mother’s will, which bore no refer- 
ence whatever to financial matters. With 
quivering voice, Jeanne read these few words, 
traced in a faltering hand : 

“ Dear children, love each other for my 
sake, and never be separated. Whilst you are 
united, I shall be with you.” 

How happy they were to have found in 
their own hearts and that of George the un- 
• conscious compliance with this last request ! 

The night, which was sleepless, and appa- 
rently endless also, they spent in talking over 
the various precipitate events which had 
wrought such a change in their destiny. 

Morning came at last ; the house was in 
order, and they were occupied with some 
minor details of the day, when Borgh^se en- 
tered, and asked permission for M. Wolffs 
introduction. 

At first sight of Jeanne, he was struck by 
her striking resemblance to his cherished Cor- 
reggio. After thanking the ladies for their 
cheerful co-operation with his innocent 
scheme, he spoke of his affection for George-, 
his great desire of keeping George with him, 


194 


Only a Pin. 


and all the plans he had in view for the fur- 
therance of this object. 

“ But, mademoiselle,” continued he, “ your 
being at a distance took away half his heart, 
and we could no longer do without you.” 

It was agreed that they should remain in- 
doors until the first interview, and M. Wolff, 
highly delighted with the anticipated effect, 
withdrew to prepare the finale of this plea- 
sant little drama — an event very easy to fore- 
see. 

Two hours after, he and George were walk- 
ing in the large English garden belonging to 
the establishment. 

“ My dear George,” said he, “ we have 
worked together for several years. I have ap- 
preciated your attachment, your skill, and par- 
ticularly your fidelity. You have devoted 
yourself to my affairs ; it is time that I should 
think of yours, since yoti seem forgetful of 
them. I know that you have some means ; 
these I wish to double, and thus enable you 
to become a partner in the house. Are you 
agreed?” 

“ Dear monsieur,” answered George, “my 
fidelity and devotion were only your due, and 
I had nothing to desire. I would be too 
happy at receiving this new mark of your 
esteem and confidence.” 

“ Well,” continued M. Wolff, “ let us have 


Only a Pin. 


195 


a serious talk on the subject. Sit down there ; 
I am going to get a sketch of the articles of 
agreement, which I have roughly drawn, and 
it would not be a bad idea to run over it 
whilst here.” 

George seated himself upon a bench shaded 
by a dense growth of acacias and hazel-trees, 
which separated him from the pavilion, now 
transformed into a faithful likeness of the 
white house. 

His thoughts, as usual, were wafted to- 
wards St. Germain. He had been informed 
that his friends were relieved of their troubles, 
and a brighter future seemed dawning upon 
him as well as them. Whilst revelling in 
these pleasant fancies, his ear caught the 
music of a parlor-organ apparently just be- 
hind the bushes. Listening more attentively, 
he distinguished the plaintive melody that 
was such a favorite bf Anna’s, and which had 
made so deep an impression upon him the 
evening of his farewell to St. Germain. 

He arose, and, pushing his way through the 
thick bushes, saw before him a pavilion with 
a ground floor and upper story, whilst a lux- 
uriant growth of white roses clambered to 
the very roof. It was a perfect imitation of 
the little abode that engrossed his every 
thought. He could scarcely believe his 
senses. 


196 Only a Pm. 

Just then the lower window was thrown 
open. 

“ Ah ! how proud you are, M, George ! ” said 
a familiar voice; “won’t you come in and 
breakfast with us ? ” 

“You here, dear Madame Blanchemain ! 
Have I gone crazy ? Speak again ! I am 
certainly dreaming, and fear the awaking ! ” 

“If you dream wide-awake, it’s not my 
fault,” said Madame Blanchemain, opening 
the door; “we have moved, that’s all.” 

George entered as if in a trance. “ Take 
care,” said he, “ this is really dangerous ; joy 
makes me fearful.” He looked around the 
dining-room, the fac-simile of that where he 
had passed so many happy moments, and 
he looked at Madame Blanchemain, who 
asked permission to continue feeding her 
canaries. 

“ It seemed,” said she, “ that you were not 
coming to see us any more, so we moved 
here.” 

“We?” replied George. “Is she with 
you ? ” 

“ And are you not going to see her ? Don’t 
you hear her sister playing ?” 

“ Pray go up with me, dear Madame 
Blanchemain ; I am too much overcome to 
trust myself alone ! ” 

“ Come, child, you must learn to bear joy 


OpAy a Pin. 197 

as well as sorrow, which, perhaps, may one 
day be your portion/' 

Ascending the stairs, they rapped at the 
door. 

“ Come in,” said a joyful voice. 

Jeanne, surrounded by her sketches, was 
seated at the work-table, a splendid bouquet 
before her. 

“ At last ! ” said she, rising, and going to- 
wards George. 

Very deep feelings are both inexpressible 
and indescribable ; consequently, we shall not 
attempt to depict the emotions of these two 
pure souls, animated with the same senti- 
ments, the same hopes, and forgetting all 
their sufferings in a smile. 

Madame Blanchemain left them, both too 
happy to give utterance to their feelings. 

“How much you have suffered !’’ said 
George. 

“ And you, too,” answered Jeanne. “But 
we tried to follow the path of duty, and God 
took pity on us ! ” 

After a short time spent in quiet inter- 
change of more than friendly words, they 
were surrounded by Anna, Borgh^se, M. and 
Mme. Wolff, reminding them that breakfast 
was all ready in Madame Blanchemair/s 
apartment. 

“ How is this, George ? ” said M. Wolff, “ I 


Only a Pin, 


make an appointment with you to talk over 
business matters, and find you here in con- 
versation with your neighbors ! We may as 
well remain here now, but serious affairs to- 
morrow ! ’’ 

He handed George a letter from his mother, 
informing him that she was coming on in a 
few days to assist at his marriage. 

George was unable to control his long sup- 
pressed feelings ; weeping, he threw himself 
into M. Wolff’s arms, while the rest crowded 
around to offer congratulations. And thus 
in the new white house were the pot-hooks 
hung up for the betrothals. 


XXIX. 


RESTITUTION. 



EANNE and George wished 
to be united simply and qui- 
etly in the Httle church of 
St. Germain. Very few in- 
vitations were given, but 
many strangers even took an 
interest in the closing act of 
this simple though romantic 
little history. 

When entering the church, 
George, taking the holy water, and offering 
it to Jeanne, said : 

“ Do you remember ? 

She answered with a look. 

They knelt before the Altar of the Blessed 
Virgin, for it was here that George, on his 
first visit to St. Germain, had come to pray 
for the success of his enterprise. 

Jeanne was neither stiff and affected, like 
some brides at the altar, nor apparently merry 
and unconcerned, like others, striving to con- 
ceal beneath an air of indifference their great 
embarrassment. Her charming countenance 


200 


Only a Pin. 


expressed the peace and serenity of a mind 
at ease, happy in the faithful performance of 
duty. 

Even on this solemn occasion, her graceful 
figure, flexible as a blade of grass, betrayed 
neither awkwardness nor restraint. 

Her toilet was very simple, the most no- 
ticeable feature being an admirable crown of 
wild roses that rivalled nature’s own. In the 
symbolic bouquet quivering at her sash, the 
eye Avas attracted by a drooping eglantine, 
and the dewdrop that lay at the heart of 
its delicate corolla was a beautiful pearl. 
This Avas Madame Wolff’s present. The 
diamond cross, a family relic, Avas suspend- 
ed from Jeanne’s neck by a black velvet 
ribbon ; and even the poor little pin had not 
been forgotten, but happily reposed upon the 
fair bride’s bosom. 

All eyes Avere bent upon Jeanne, Avho 
bravely but modestly bore these scrutinizing 
glances, and responded by a friendly look to 
those Avhom she recognized. 

“ She has nothing,” said a mother to her 
daughter. 

“ He takes the tAVO sisters, then ? ” said 
another. 

“ It is Avhat he had better do,” replied a 
neighbor, for one could not live Avithout the 
other.” 


Only a Pin, 


201 


\ 


‘‘The good God will bless them,” said the 
poor, whom George had not forgotten. 

A strain of melody imposed silence upon 
the prattling throng accustomed to collect on 
such occasions. It was not difficult for 
George to recognize the touch of Borgh^se, 
the skilful Borgh^se, who wafted these pious 
chants to heaven, whilst the anointed of the 
Lord blessed their union. 

All bent in reverential silence beneath the 
influence of those pure accents which found 
an echo in the hearts of the assembled faith- 
ful ; all participated in the happiness of this 
festive day. 

The good Abbe R , Jeanne’s confessor, 

made a very ingenuous and touching address. 
He had taken for his text these words of the 
Evangelist, “ Seek, and ye shall find ” ; and al- 
though his remarks were of general import, 
and bore no direct allusion to the adventures 
of the young couple before him, the atten- 
tive audience remembered all that George 
had found by his spirit of careful observation, 
from a pin even to the worthy woman he 
once in this very place begged God’s assist- 
ance in finding, and whom to-day he claimed 
before the altar as his wife. 

Carriages awaited them, and, having ex- 
changed affectionate adieus with some friends, 
whom they promisea to see again, they set 


202 


Only a Pin, 


out for Paris. M. Wolff, who had conducted 
Jeanne to the church, presided over the feast 
given in his mansion. At his right sat the 
bride, at his left George’s good mother, re- 
joicing in the happiness of her dearly loved 
son. George himself was placed between 
M. Wolff and Borgh^se, the two beneficent 
fairies who had prepared this little drama. 
Madame Blanchemain was radiant. 

When George found himself in Jeanne’s 
little room at the white house, leaning over 
his shoulder, she said, in a low voice : 

“ I give you back this little pin, for it is 
now truly yours.” 


XXX. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

HUS it was, and this was how 
the poor little pin returned 
to the possession of its dear 
and ancient master. 

H i s increasing fortune 
would have permitted him 
a more elegant summer re- 
sidence, but he purchased 
from Madame Blanchemain, 
and wished to preserve in- 
tact, the little house of St. Germain. 

If, now, any one should ask how I have 
been able to recount so many circumstances 
at which I did not assist, let me say, for my 
justification, that all the events of this simple 
history have been often repeated and com- 
mented upon before me by members of the 
household. 

Would you like to know how I am engaged 
at present ? Come to the little chamber, its 
window crowned with roses, and giving a view 



204 


Only a Pin. 


of the distant horizon. A crib is in the room, 
and around the crib are the silent admirers of 
the sleeping babe. George has Jeanne by 
the hand ; Anna, the second mother of this 
little angel, busies herself with the thousand 
details of the house. 

“ It will be the image of Jeanne,” said 
Madame Blanchemain, taking a pinch with 
evident satisfaction. 

And I, poor little pin, am attached to the 
white garments of the slumbering child. 

But enquire of me no further ! Let us 
leave our friends at the summit of their hap- 
piness. Sorrow is an inevitable guest in every 
household, and the pin which now listens to 
the beatings of this infant heart may one day 
be attached to a shroud. 

There is a moral to every fable ; let us 
see what can be learned from this true his- 
tory. 

If George had not loved and respected his 
father, he would never have honored his 
memory so far as to have followed his coun- 
sels upon so insignificant a matter as the 
picking up of a pin. 

If he had not picked up this pin, and stuck 
it in his sleeve, he would not have interested 
M. Wolff. 

If he had been wanting in a taste for the 
good and beautiful, he would never have 


205 


Only a Pin, 

found in the museum at Munich the image 
of her whom the future held in store for 
him. 

If he had never acquired any experience in 
works of art, he would not have been sent to 
the Jardin des Plantes, nor would he, in con- 
sequence, have found the original of that 
image already impressed upon his heart. 

If he had not been an honorable, frank, 
agreeable youth, he would not have won the 
esteem and attachment of Borghese, who de- 
voted herself to his interests with true sisterly 
affection. 

If he had yielded to the whims of a' pretty 
woman, and given her his pin, he could not 
have lent it to the charming stranger, and 
thus forged the first link of that chain which 
was to unite their destinies for ever. 

If he had devoted himself to amusements, 
instead of studying a foreign language, he 
would not, perhaps, have been in America, 
and thus learned in another hemisphere the 
means of being useful to his two friends. 

If he had exacted the pin when, in obe- 
dience to Jeanne’s probation, he was exiled 
from St. Germain, he had proved himself less 
worthy of her. 

If he had passed by the church, on his first 
visit to St. Germain, perhaps he would not 
have found her whom his heart sought, or, at 


2o6 


Only a Pin, 


least, he might not have entered her home 
with such feelings of duty and piety. 

And tell me, now, what brought about all 
these events 


A PIN! 


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